


everyone looks worse in the light (unlike you)

by Ephemeral_Joy



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV 2020)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Human, Comfort, Drunk Sex, F/M, Fluff, Mild Sexual Content, Music, One Night Stands, Slow Burn, Social Media, Strangers to Lovers, Sunset Curve (Julie and The Phantoms)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 21:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 46,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30028398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ephemeral_Joy/pseuds/Ephemeral_Joy
Summary: After a two-night stand with Julie Molina goes awry, Luke Patterson is surprised to find himself becoming friends with her. As long as he doesn't lose focus and catapults his band into stardom, it should be fine, right?Unfortunately, Julie can be quite irresistible when she wants to be.
Relationships: Julie Molina/Luke Patterson
Comments: 55
Kudos: 176





	everyone looks worse in the light (unlike you)

**Author's Note:**

> In November I had the grand idea to write a New Adult Juke story and use my Dumb Bitch Tendencies as inspo. Ever since, I've written five iterations of the same story that I've all hated with a passion. This one is okay, I guess. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I have limited knowledge about the USA and even less about LA. This is my version of LA. All the LA purists can fuck off <3
> 
> edited | not beta'd | M for sexual content | tumblr: @lydias--stiles

**PART ONE**

He didn’t want to be here. Alas, his friends could be persuasive if they wanted to. 

After a shit day in the studio, another rejection letter from agencies all around, contrived lyrics scratched on lined paper and one sugar crash, Alex and Reggie decided to go to a karaoke bar. Of all places they could go to take the edge off, they decide on an establishment that would literally be his cause of death. Luke despised karaoke. Why listen to drunk people blabber lyrics they didn’t know (nor cared about) into a shitty mic at two am while sipping on an equally shitty margarita? Why torture himself with music when music itself was kicking his butt as of late? 

But then Alex told him mocking drunk people was fun and Reggie begged for a chance to sing ABBA, so Luke couldn’t refuse. He already acted like a douche enough today. 

So there he sat, on a barstool at Neon Affluenza on a Wednesday night peering into the aforementioned shitty margarita. The place recently opened and has gotten pretty good reviews, Luke quietly admitting that the vibe of the bar was pretty dope. Dark walls and black hardfloor flooring, dimmed lights and purple LED giving everyone a mysterious glow. The stage was small, as usual, with an underpaid DJ on the side playing the tracks. It was packed, loud chatter and clinking glasses overpowering the slurring words of the heavy-lidded, burly man onstage working his way through a Céline Dion track. Luke would hate if if billion so of people across the world butchered his songs. Then again, she had a record deal and, you know, _ any significance.  _

Alex sat next to him, grinning face illuminated while texting Willie, as Luke lazily let his gaze drift across the room. The drunk singer got a weak applause, the next person ascending the stage and singing -  _ Jesus fucking Christ, kill him now _ \- ‘Firework’ by Katy Perry. This night truly was the worst. 

It didn’t help that three girls have come up to him. Was it an ongoing bet from one friend group or something? To see which one of the girls could crack him? Any other night, he would’ve relished the attention, maybe even chatted one up enough to go home with. Flirting was second nature to Luke. The third girl was his type too! Regardless - Luke wasn’t in the mood and nothing, or  _ no one, _ would change that. (Maybe he could sneak back to the studio…) 

“Excuse me-” A female voice called out, tapping his arm.

He rolled his eyes. “Not interested.”

She scoffed. “You’re sitting on my jacket, asshole.”

Turning to face her, he froze for a beat. His unimpressed glare turned surprised at how pretty she was. Like, ‘double take on the street’-pretty. If he thought the girl from before was his type, he was mistaken.  _ This  _ was his type. She regarded him with minimal interest, brows raised and arms crossed. 

“So?”

His reply stuttered out slowly. “Uh… huh?” Awesome. He was twenty-three and unable to speak to a pretty girl like some pimply eleven year old playing spin the bottle for the first time. 

She tugged on his stool and - oh. The stool wasn’t leather, it was suede. He was sitting on her leather jacket. Shit. He terribly hoped he didn’t have butt sweat, or else mortification would take him out and not the piercing belt of the drunkard. Either way, he embarrassed himself. 

“Shit!” He rushed from his chair and held the garment out for her. “Sorry!” 

With a sneer, she grabbed it from his grasp, fingers brushing and letting heat ripple up his arm. Holy shit. Yup. The night took a turn. He had to know who she was. 

She pulled the jacket on. “Thanks, I guess…” Just as she was about to disappear back in the throngs of people, he called out for her. 

“Uh, hey! I didn’t get a name!”

The girl turned around, an amused - hella attractive - expression flitting across her face, and tracked his body with her eyes. Instinctively fixing his slouch, he hoped she was into that punk-rocker aesthetic. That jacket was sort of a clue, right? 

An ironic smile tugged on her lips. “Thought you weren’t interested, loverboy.”

Oh, fuck. His flirting game found their match and it was wrapped around a 5′4 girl with glossy curls and eyes glinting with challenge. Luke recovered as fast as he could from his whiplash and swaggered over to her, a charming smirk falling on his lips - the one he so often pulled to make the front row fawn. The girl didn’t look away, raising her chin to level his intensity. A giddy feeling spread in his chest. This could be fun. 

Taking a step forward, he dialled up the charm. “That’s before I knew the leather jacket belonged to a pretty face like yours,  _ princess.” _

“Trust me,” she laughed, also attractive. Everything about her was fucking enigmatic. “I’m not a princess.”

He tried again. “What’s your name?”

“What’s yours?” she shot back. 

He licked his lips, grinning, and held his hand out. He’d gladly bridge this animosity if it got him a name and a number. “I’m Luke.”

His hand was met with cold air, the girl laughing again and showcasing the cute, little gap between her teeth. It should be an imperfection, but it kind of made her better. Jeez, he didn’t even know her! Why she was laughing, however, he didn’t know. He’d lie if he said his ego wasn’t slammed. 

“Are you-?”

“Next up: my girl Julie with Lizzo!” The DJ yelled in the mic, a gaggle in the crowd hooting and whistling.

The girl winked, throwing a thumb at the stage and shrugging like she felt sorry for interrupting the conversation. “That’s my cue. Bye!”

“Wait!” Argh! He didn’t pay attention to the DJ! Now he still didn’t now her name! A beat later, though, the latter words processed. Lizzo. This girl was going to sing… Lizzo? The most revered pipes of the 21st century? Yeesh. Maybe she wasn’t so cool after all. 

The girl jumped on the stage like she owned it, the first notes of ‘Juice’ booming from the amps, her body moving with the beat. Straightening her jacket and mirroring the smirk he just sported himself, Luke’s throat went dry. 

“Oh.” Alex casually came to stand next to him. “That’s Julie.”

“What?!”

But then she opened her mouth and any sensical thought flew out the window. Her voice was fucking magnificent. Clear, kind of raspy, yet loud and strong and an undercurrent that suggested years of rigorous training. This was not just some girl singing - she was singer. 

_ If I’m shining, everybody gonna shine  
_ _ I was born like this, don’t even gotta try _

Her eyes searched across the heads and then stuck on him, that damned smirk widening and sending him a look that would bring any man to his knees. And then, to finish him off, teasingly waved at him as she spit the lyrics. 

_ I’m like Chardonnay, get better over time  
_ _ Heard you say I’m not the baddest bitch, you lie! _

Julie zoomed through the lyrics with ease, dancing and singing like it was breathing, and oozing every bit of confidence a person could have. Cocky nods and flirtatious winks and sinking in her knees to direct a lyric to a person in the crowd. He corrected his previous thought: she wasn’t a singer, she was a  _ performer. _

All of a sudden, she jumped offstage with the mic, the adoring audience parting for her like the Red Sea and the bartenders brightening the LED’s to give everyone a proper look at what she was doing. Luke should’ve known that one verse wasn’t enough - should’ve known that if he was the Flirt King, Julie was the Flirt Queen. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face though. She was fucking incredible. 

Coming to a halt right in front of him with that smirk meaning ‘checkmate’, she obnoxiously pointed at him as she sung the bridge to the audience. 

_ Somebody come get this man  
_ _ I think he got lost in my DMs, what? My DMs, what?  
_ _ You better come get your man  
_ _ I think he wanna be way more than friends, what?  
_ _ More than friends  
_ _ What you want me to say? _

Luke was shaking from laughter, flushing red yet buzzing with exhilaration at this girl putting him in his place. Putting on a show! 

Before he could snatch her waist, she ran back to the stage to belt out the last chorus with all her might, a dazzling smile breaking through. It was the first genuine, earnest one of the night and… wow. 

Julie was a powerhouse. 

Alex, unfazed, went back to texting Willie. “She’s a singer from LA. Thought you’d know her.”

Her song ended, the applause so deafening the pedestrians probably heard it too. Julie made a silly face and bumped fists with the DJ. She must be a regular here. Weaving her way back to the bar, Luke mustered all his bravado into a laid-back stance and nonchalant smile. He couldn’t hide the mischievous spark in his eye though. That checkmate was still up for grabs. 

“A water, please,” she asked the bartender. Catching her eye, she turned towards him. “Hello again.”

“Gotta admit, Julie-” he leaned back, elbows propped on the bar. “-wasn’t too bad.”

From the way her eyes lingered on the movement, triumph flared in his chest. She came closer, cocking a hip and placing her glass next to his arm. “Ha! I can sing circles around you.”

He leaned in with a grin. “You’d be surprised.”

She didn’t back down. “Is that a challenge?”

“Ask me again in the morning.”

Huffing, she uttered: “What makes you think I’d go home with you?”

“Cause I do ‘wanna be way more than friends’ and, well…” He closed the space between them, calloused fingers tucking a curl behind her ear. Her skin was hot from the lights. For a beat, her resolve waned. “You’re still here.”

Those eyes that have been driving him wild flickered to his lips. He held his breath in anticipation. One night with this girl and some snarky lyrics later and he’d be back on the saddle. This was what he needed to get out of his funk. Afterwards, everything would just go back to normal. 

Her lips suddenly grazed his, gaze flicking up and giving him a killer grin. Right - maybe not entirely back to normal. He wouldn’t mind Julie giving him a look like that more often. 

“You got yourself a deal… loverboy.”

When Luke woke up - green sheets thrown around, his clothes in a rushed heap on the floor, curtains still open and letting in the blaring sunlight - he needed a minute to settle the thoughts in his mind. Though he hadn’t been drunk (that margarita was, you guessed it, shitty), nights like these were blurry when he wasn’t sure what came first. Did Julie kiss him before or after they got in the Uber, had their shoes been flicked off before or after they reached his bedroom? Was she really that fucking great at unravelling him or was it just his overactive fantasy? (Because she was - holy fucking shit, she was. Though Luke stopped knowing the number of his body count, he knew she stuck out like a winner.)

Scrubbing his hands over his face, he peeked from between his fingers at the spot next to him. She wasn’t there. He had no clue how late it was, but he was glad she took it upon herself to leave. No pretense, no cuddles, no anything. Kind of shitty he didn’t get her number, but he’d get over it. Mindblowing sex wasn’t a rarity. 

Only to be stumped when he halted in the main living area and caught sight of Julie babbling with a cooking Alex. They were smiling and laughing, as if they’ve been friends forever, neither taking note of the bleary-eyed guitarist in the threshold. Huh. Unexpected turn of events. The unspoken rule of one night stands was to leave as soon as possible,  _ not  _ brunch with the bandmates. 

“Uh,” he called out. “What’re you… still doing here?”

The two looked up, Reggie simultaneously coming out of his own room with a paperback and plopping down at the island next to Julie. Alright then. Guess this was fucking normal now. 

Julie grinned. “Don’t worry, I’m leaving in like five minutes. Alex offered to make me eggs.”

Daylight always brought out details none saw at night. He once read somewhere that people became desirable because shadows shrouded imperfections, insecurities, secrets. A stranger was beautiful as the darkness cut their features with sharp lines, eyes glittering from the strobes, inhibitions lowered from a drink. Julie looked different now too. Younger. Not  _ younger  _ younger (yeesh, he wasn’t a perv), but… softer. Not the flirtatious girl he encountered in the bar last night. Her face was bare (he vaguely remembered cherry lipgloss pressed in his neck), hair in a high ponytail, her leather jacket draped across the chair - simple, not an immediate turn-on like before. It was black with a flower on the back. She was just a girl. A flush crept up at the back of his neck, unsure how to react to that information. 

He came closer, snatching a piece of bacon from the simmering pan and leaned against the other side of the island. Small talk couldn’t hurt. “So… Julie Molina, huh? LA singer who doesn’t give out numbers."

Her grin widened. “Correct - thanks, Alex.” The blonde placed a fried egg and toast in front of her. “One of my EP’s just got some recognition -  _ Metamorphosis  _ \- and it kind of got me on the map.”

Reggie looked up from his book with a snort. “Kind of? It plays in the supermarket.” 

Just as she opened her mouth, Luke cut in. “Why are you all acting like lifelong friends?”

The three looked at each other for a beat, Luke’s stomach coiling uncomfortably at the moment. His crippling FOMO and the idea of not knowing what this boys were thinking was unsettling. 

“Oh!” Julie perked up, somehow that smile brightening even more and pushing Luke further out of the loop. “Reggie is a regular where I work and Alex and I follow each other on Instagram. We’ve talked.”

The information processed slowly. Her and Alex… talked? “Wait… so you knew who I was?”

“Yes. Not at first though - don’t worry, I’m not a groupie.” Her nose curled up with disgust. “I have better things to do.”

A grin naturally morphed on his lips, tapping his nail against her plate. “And yet you’re here.”

Alex abruptly slapped him with the spatula, Luke yelping out of place. “No flirting at breakfast!”

“What the fuck?!”

Pointing the weapon at the front door, he added: “Figure it out  _ outside.  _ This is Reggie’s reading time and cooking helps me unwind. Not your terrible flirting.”

Damn. He had a point. By now, Julie has finished her eggs and half the toast, sliding from the stool and shrugging her jacket on. She was smaller than he remembered, then noticing her shoes were off. Yeah, Julie Molina was definitely less magical in the daylight. Not less gorgeous though. It was hard not to stare. 

Briefly checking her phone, she sent Alex a reassuring smile. “I’m headed to work. Thanks again for the eggs; see you for your afternoon coffee, Reggie.”

The boys waved at her. Alex with that fucking spatula, Reggie with his book, and Luke silently followed her to the door. As she bend down to zip up her boots, her hair slipped out of the way and revealed purple hickeys all over neck. Pride swelled in his chest for a beat. Not that he ever questioned his talents, but it was a nice reminder nonetheless. He remembered thinking at sixteen sex couldn’t get better than that, but then he turned eighteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-three and yeah - it  _ very much  _ got better each time. 

Swallowing down the question if he should get her an Uber, he instead opened the door for her. The cold, cement floor of the hallway tickled his feet, clashing with Julie’s dark, going out look.

For the first time, a slight nervous edge flitted across her face. “So…” she trailed. “Last night was fun.” 

Thank God they were on the same page.  _ Thank God _ it wasn’t just his imagination. Embarrassment wouldn’t even describe what he’d feel if it had been shit. Who knew how much experience she had? Was he even in _her_ top five? 

“Yeah,” he replied smoothly, weight falling against the door. “It was. Wouldn’t mind doing it again.” Shooting her a cocky nod, he added: “Gotta get your number though.”

She snorted. “I’m not giving you my number.”

“Alright,” Pushing himself off with his foot, he came to stand in front of her with an amused peer. The snort shifted to a playful smile. The memory of her levelled flirting skills came back to him. “What game are you playing? Cause it’s working, I’m hooked.”

Slipping from his looming figure, she shrugged. “No game, just not interested in becoming someone’s regular booty call.”

“But occasionally?” The hopefulness tinging his tone couldn’t be hidden. Both heard it. He, frankly, didn’t care. Luke was opportunistic. They had great sexual chemistry; why let go of that when they could do it again? (And again and again and again?)

Julie pursed her lips, a grin fighting to bloom and averting her eyes. Luke bit his lip, trying to not look so smug. He had to play his cards right. Her phone buzzed again. 

Turning on her heels and walking backwards, she exclaimed: “When’s your next gig?”

Baffled at the sudden switch, he wracked his brain for the right date. “Uh, I don’t- next Saturday. Why?”

“Maybe you’ll see me there,” she yelled, further and further away. “Maybe not. Who knows!”

Luke laughed, shaking his head. “C’mon, Julie! Don’t leave me hanging!”

“Bye, Luke!” Wiggling his fingers at him like the tease she was, she disappeared around the corner. He faintly heard the whirring of the elevator, opening and closing, and then she was gone. 

Alright. Time to murder his friends and get ready for the day. Storming back inside, he flung Julie’s half-eaten toast at Alex’ back and stuck a wet finger in Reggie’s ear. 

“Hey!”, the bassist yelled. 

“None of you thought to mention you knew her?!”

Alex’ revulsed stare went from the bread on the ground to him. “I did tell you.  _ Last night. _ You were too busy getting off on her flirting to listen.”

“And why would I tell you about my cute barista?” added Reg with a snort. “You’d swoop in and ruin the friendship. She makes  _ great  _ coffee, by the way. Really liberal with the sugar.” 

Luke sighed. How Julie went from possible fuck buddy to a possible new  _ friend  _ was difficult to wrap his head around. This was not what he imagined when he thought of getting back on the saddle. Bleh. He hadn’t even been able to impress her with his singing either like they originally discussed. Whatever. He’d mull about Julie later. Right now, they had the band to focus on. That saddle was getting cold. 

Sunset Curve was getting their ass handed to them.

The band has been trying to blast off for a year now. They’ve been putting in the work, playing the gigs, gotten the connections around the LA scene - they did it the  _ right  _ way. No nepotism, no elitist bullshit. They practised until their fingers were raw and bleeding and songs were rehearsed to perfection. Most of all: they were great! Sunset Curve was so fucking sensational that they  _ deserved  _ to be signed to a good agency! To get into a real studio and record professionally! But for some reason, they weren’t signed. Not to Universal, not to Atlantic, not to those dumb indie ones. Gah! What were they doing wrong?! The LA scene loved their sound; their last bad review was when they were eighteen and Alex had been  _ a little _ too stoned.

Sure, Sunset Curve wasn’t mainstream. He wasn’t dumb. It was punk-rock, not exactly the same as Shawn Mendes, Khalid or Lizzo. But that didn’t mean they should be ignored on the radio. Plenty of established bands went off the beaten path!

His ego was especially hurt now that he knew Julie was more established than they were. If anything, he’d been  _ her  _ groupie last night. Damn.

Fetching his laptop from his room and hopping back onto the island, he went to his depressing Gmail. “Boys, we gotta think of something new to blow them off their seats.”

Reggie placed his book down, lips down-turned. “i’m not even going to propose my country song.”

The fact they were still having this discussion since a sixteen year old Reg talked about, was enough to cause a headache behind his eyes.  _ “Jeez, _ Reg, just make an EP or something. C’mon, guys. Not tryna be negative here, but… busting down doors just isn’t working. We gotta do it…”

“Differently,” Alex finished, jaw taut. The drummer hated change. “Aka, lose artistic integrity.”

Luke felt a protest bubble in his throat. “Uh! You guys always say it’s  _ kind of  _ about the money too! I’m  _ thinking  _ about that, you know!” 

With every rejected demo, the looming reality of a dream lost and crushed came closer. A reality he, since he was thirteen years old, dutifully suppressed. Alt-delete negative thought and move on. Now, ten years after the founding of the band and without proper recognition, those thoughts have become so big and overwhelming that the delete-button got lost beneath it. 

So yeah, he was finally giving their argument about 'money' some attention. Even if money meant nothing to him, he felt oddly responsible for the boys.  _ He  _ roped them in the band,  _ he  _ fed them these grand dreams of the rockstar lifestyle. They followed voluntarily, obviously, but he instigated it. Whenever rent was due and they’ve been low on gigs, he felt nauseous. They were far from being bankrupt and kicked out, but the way they were doing it now (the supposed “right” way), wouldn’t be sustainable for much longer.

And they all knew it. But fuck, Alex was right about artistic integrity. He didn’t wanna become another Kings of Leon copycat. Didn’t wanna get watered down to some shitty Mumford & Sons cover band.  _ Certainly  _ didn’t wanna end up as a washed up singer in a bar like Neon Affluenza reliving his “golden days”. 

“There are some important music people coming Saturday,” Luke conceded. “We play the house down, set that stage on fire with our killer songs and I’m  _ sure  _ one of them will be interested. They’d be stupid if they’re not! Right, Reg?”

Even his most loyal wingman looked doubtful. “I guess…” He shook his head, that signature grin appearing. “You’re right. Yeah! They just haven’t heard the Ravishing Reggie play yet!”

“Exactly!”

“Ew,” Alex spit.

“And if nothing happens-” Luke’s arrogant smirk returned. “-I’ll still have a good time after.”

(Julie hastily pulling her clothes off with a giggle, her hands sliding up his chest the second his muscle tee did too. His teeth sucking and biting her neck, their breathy groans mingling in the warm sheets. The taste of sweat, tequila and cherries. Fingers digging and pulling and tugging at exactly the right spots to elicit pleasure. That quiet pinnacle of shared relief. So fucking intoxicating.) 

The blonde puffed, incredulous. “She wants to see you again?”

“I mean-” He blanked. “Maybe. She’ll be there -  _ maybe.” _

Reg and Alex shared an amused look. “So… she played you?”

Luke puckered his lips, weighing his words. “Did she  _ really  _ if I got her in bed?”

“Yeah,” Alex deadpanned. “She got her fun and left you wanting more. She played you.”

“Not if she comes!”

“She won’t come."

“Damn, Alex,” Luke sneered. “Always the sunshine of the band.”

His pragmatic expression didn’t waver. “Just telling the truth, man. You got lucky last night. Julie’s a catch.”

Well, fuck. That hurt even more! “And I’m not?!”

“Of course you are, buddy,” Reggie soothed, though the glint in his eye told otherwise. “Julie’s just better.”

Bleh. His friends were assholes. They’d be spouting a different tale if they knew what transpired in that bedroom a few hours ago. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t kiss and tell. Stealing a grape from Reggie’s plate and throwing it straight into the soft-boiled egg of Alex, (His obsession with darts when he was seventeen finally paid off) Luke got his inch of victory. He hated not having the last word. As the boys cursed him out, he jumped from the counter. 

“I’m going for a jog. Bad vibes.” He mimicked a shudder. “All of you! Bad vibes!”

Every since he got cut off and kicked out by his parents, Luke ran. Alex once told him it was a physical representation of his emotions, which Luke then quickly nipped in the butt cause  _ holy fucking shit why the psychobabble,  _ but he supposed there was some truth to his statement. Before he graduated high school and that fateful day arrived, he escaped his home life through music. Because when he put his headphones on and blared Michael Jackson, he could pretend he wasn’t seeing their disapproving stares after another failed math test. The start of the band also marked the end of any possible reconciliation. After, it was through gigs and parties and girls - weed if he was feeling particularly social. 

Luke knew all that. He knew it was like “running” or “escaping”, but what else was he supposed to do? Break his back to become the ideal son, the son they actually wanted? To be fair, he still had no clue what that entailed. All he knew was that his stuffy folks never liked music that brought, like,  _ enjoyment  _ to people’s lives (they only listened to classical music - ew) and that he did everything wrong. That was the consensus: Luke was wrong. Luke this and Luke that, that by June 15th he biked in his maroon gown and hat with a duffle bag and guitar case to Reggie’s house.

What a sight: the boy with the broken home, freshly out of high school yet with angry tears streaming down his cheeks. 

He boiled with anger for days, pacing and raging in Reg’s bedroom and inconsolable. At the moment of his fever pitch and he truly felt like snapping, his mother had pushed him outside onto the beach, and told him to go for a run.

The rest is history. Now, if he didn’t run, Luke felt like he was suffocating. It maybe wasn’t the  _ best  _ coping mechanism, but it was better than blacking out from cheap whiskey or smoking until he tasted colour. No fucking way he’d ever go to a therapist. Those hippies could keep their greedy hands to themselves. 

Sprinting down the streets of SoCal, Julie’s music blared through his earphones. 

And fuck. She was good. It didn’t fit his 160 bpm run, but her smooth voice carried his feet down the pavement. Lizzo did her dirty - she was far better than what she showcased at the bar. Her music had a pop influence, piano as a focus and her voice crafting the story. It was effortless. She got a bit overzealous with the vibrato and the lyrics were a bit cheesy at times, but there was no denying she was talented. Truly talent, just like the boys and him. (And yeah, he kind of got turned on when her vowels became breathier or her voice quieted, but that was exactly the reason he began listening to her in the first place. Got him to forget about the band’s problems too.) 

Promptly stopping to catch his breath, he swiped to his Instagram and followed her.

She came. He saw her immediately. (Hard not to spot the beauty in the pit.) The boys shouldn’t have doubted him.

Raven’s Nest was packed and it was packed for _ them.  _ It was one of those typical LA clubs from the twenties with killer acoustics and asbestos probably still stuck in the ceiling. Not ventilated, crowded as fuck; basically the most rock ‘n roll place to get a gig. Luke was  _ living. _

The club was known for that one hot summer night in 1983 when David Bowie crashed the place and gave the performance of a lifetime. Luke wanted to believe that, just like Elvis and Marilyn, Bowie’s ghost was still on earth. Watching from the wings as the next generation took care of creating killer music. It pushed him to become better. That energy, that iconic picture of Bowie in a fuchsia suit and eyeliner, that  _ legacy  _ \- Luke wanted that too. (But than in a Kurt Cobain kind of way, preferably with a longer lifespan.) 

Sunset Curve was blazing with passion and euphoria as their hits spilled into one another, crashing cymbals and killer riffs and Reggie that guided the audience through it all. The people were incredible, their roars and whistles feeding them the energy to keep going, t keep dancing and jumping and pushing their voices to its limits. Luke was so hyped, so fucking happy, that the grin stretched across his face could be seen from space. This was how he always wanted to feel. His heart that beat with the rhythm, that exhilarating jolt in his body that propelled him to the front of the stage, as if he was standing on the edge of a cliff and screaming  _ this is it! This is where I’m meant to be!  _ In moments like these, all that mattered was the music blooming and bursting. There were no problems, no insecurities. Just him to his core fundamentals: a chord and a note.

And whenever he felt that, no one was safe. 

His charisma got dialled up to eleven and came pouring from the growl in his singing voice and the strain of his arms as he shredded the guitar. 

“Alright,” he yelled in the mic. “Final song of the night, people! We’re ending it with a banger-”

Man, he’d never get sick of that united hitch of the breath. That eager anticipation as everyone’s eyes and phones were glued on his face. He shot a grin at Reggie, the bassist nodding with glee. He felt it too. 

Jumping on the drummer’s platform, he made a show of pretending to whisper. “Hey, Alex, why don’t you count us in?”

The die-hard fans began to roar in excitement, screams coming from all corners of the club as the confident grin of Alex tapped his sticks together. “Now Or Never” thundered from the amps, Luke mustering all the power for one final clap of thunder. Sharing that moment with the audience, that knowledge that everyone was right where they were supposed to be, was the reason he even got into music in the first place. 

And mushed near the front of the stage was Julie. Her shimmery top reflected in his eye as she danced with her friend beside her. Somehow, their eyes crossed and he pointedly held it as the familiar lyrics tumbled from his lips. 

_ Take off, last stop _ _  
_ _ Countdown till we blast open the top _ _  
_ _ Face first, full charge _ _  
_ _ Electric hammer to the heart _

Her beam widened as she sang the last lyric right back in his face. Shaking his head - cause how the hell was she still able to one up him from the crowd? - he directed his gaze back to the swarm of partygoers. Reggie bounced over to him and shared the mic, playing it up for the audience as they pounded and shoved each other in the chest.

The bridge made him drop to his knees, the first row going insane as he expertly played the guitar and Alex’ baritone voice reverberated. Luke made a quick mental note to let Alex sing more. The dude’s voice was smooth as hell, a nice contrast to the crack his voice had. 

He ran to the mic for his line and shot a wink at Julie as he did.

_ Living on a feeling that's been running through our veins _

The boys joined.

_ We're the revolution that's been singing in the rain! _

They were. Sunset Curve was the revolution that has been smashing at the glass ceiling for years and Luke knew - he was so certain, he felt it in his bones - that victory was close. Whether that meant a small change in strategy or a bit of luck, triumph was on the horizon.

They were gonna soar. 

A panting, drenched with sweat Luke found Julie five minutes after the set, running off stage and quickly thanking the tech crew for making the show as good as it was. The boys did their little ritual (foreheads pressed together, arms over the shoulders, passing a compliment and, if a show went particularly well, a kiss on the cheek; Luke had a bit of Alex’ glitter on his face now) and then dispersed into the crowd. She was easy to spot. Again, the beauty in that shiny, purple top? He’d have trouble  _ not  _ seeing her. 

His body crowded over her, shaking from the euphoric aftermath of a good show. Julie had the decency to look mildly impressed. Inside, a DJ exchanged the rock energy with that typical trap sound. Outside however, with throngs of people leaving to home or to the next bar, Luke was ready for his next match with Julie. 

“Gotta admit, Luke,” she sighed, mimicking his words from last week. “Wasn’t too bad.” 

“Still think you can sing circles around me?”, he snarked, hand slipping on the small of her back. When she rolled her eyes and yelled goodbye at her friend, he dropped his voice. “You came.”

Her voice was a little less steady. “I told you,” she murmured. “I  _ somehow _ managed to clear my schedule.”

Luke grinned. His other hand locked on her back and she didn’t pull away. “For someone who says they don’t play games, you do like to play them.”

The energy between them became charged, like their night at Affluenza when her simmering gaze tracked from his eyes to his lips and left him with want. This time though, she seemed to be the one taken slightly aback. Flustered, he realised. Luke got her flustered. He reckoned it was his sweaty arms, but hey - he was using her for her body too. Consensual transaction.

Her brown eyes flickered with an intensity he’d love to see up close. “That would be a nice lyric-” and then, because they were only young twenty-somethings and not subtle, she added: “-want to work on it at my place? My roommate’s going to her girlfriend.”

Though he knew the answer, he weighed her words for a beat. For Luke, the rest of the night seemed easy. Have their fun and get her number. He didn’t want to be some sleaze asking for a hook-up over Instagram amidst the no doubt other horny dudes. A casual relationship, one that benefited both. But she wouldn’t give her number, wouldn’t agree to that. Realistically, that should be enough to turn her down. 

But he was also just a guy keyed up from playing and ready to loose it with this hot as hell girl, waiting on him to say yes.  _ Knowing  _ he’d say yes. Luke didn’t know who won the match this time, but he, frankly, didn’t care.

“You got yourself a deal…  _ princess.”  _

**PART TWO**

He woke up to a blaring alarm. A groan next to him reached over and snoozed it. A sigh. A breath. Rolling into her back, his lips placed warm, open-mouthed kisses up her spine. 

She shivered from the touch. “Too tired…”

He hummed, reaching her shoulder and then, as he got to her neck, found her shifting beneath him. Julie captured his mouth with hers, fingers in his hair. This might be the best way to wake up. Hot and languid and with a girl that expected nothing else but this. His chest thudded with victory. 

Pressing down on her, he murmured: “You sure?”

“Hm-” She kissed him again. “-yeah.”

Her fingers didn’t leave his hair though. Her lazy, warm kisses made his eyes roll shut, lower halves flush together with the memory of hours ago. His fingers slipped down her side. A whine erupted from her throat, the sound making him squeeze her ass so she wouldn’t stop. God, Julie was the definition of sex appeal. 

Suddenly, she gently pushed him off and sat up, the hazy sunlight filtering from her blinds onto her body. Even with her curls a mess and her eyes droopy, she looked ethereal. Luke was almost certain he was imagining her. Then again, if he was, then he wouldn’t be in this unfamiliar bedroom. He looked around for the first time since coming in. Off-white walls that leaned blue, gauzy curtains, an overflowing dresser, a keyboard stacked in one corner, a desk and a ridiculous collection of plants in the other. If his eyes raked up, he’d see the collage of pictures taped above her bed - friends, family, souvenirs, doodles. He peeked at her bedside table. Phone, lamp, rings, a bottle of perfume. And perched on the bed, the slow awakening of Julie Molina.

Yeah, he was probably imagining her. 

His meandering hand found a way on her bare back, softly caressing the skin. Her tired gaze shot over her shoulder. 

The whisper was barely audible. “I have errands to run. You can take a quick shower if you want, but you have to be gone in, like, thirty minutes.”

The silly smirk came on without trying to. “What happens after thirty minutes?”

Julie chuckled, leaning back on her hands to play with a stray hair of his. Her tone was sugary sweet. “Then I’ll have to kick you out myself,” she pouted. 

“Boyfriend’s coming back?” he joked. 

“Funny.”

He tried again. “Can I get your number?”

She watched him for a beat, as if just realising they were naked in her bed after another amazing round of sex. The first time wasn’t a fluke; they were great together. His hand kept the soothing actions going. “I don’t want a boyfriend,” Julie eventually said. 

Perfect answer! “Well, that’s great. I don’t want a relationship either. Just this.”

“Can I drink my coffee first before I give you a definite answer? Cause-” She swatted his hand away with a grin. “-you’re distracting me, loverboy.”

He hoisted himself up, kissing her neck. It only took them two times for Luke to find her so fucking addictive. “That’s the point,” he mumbled.

Julie sighed, giving into his touch and letting herself sink into the mattress. Just as he thought he got her, she bit down on his bottom lip and crawled out of bed. Stunned and with a pounding lip, he watched as her shadowy body pulled on an oversized hoodie and disappeared between the crack of her bedroom door.  _ Chuckling. _

His face dropped back on her pillow with an incredulous puff. Julie Molina was gonna drive him _ wild.  _

As he showered last night’s performance and activities from his body, his mind wandered back to the band. If they’ve gotten someone’s interest piqued or business cards, Alex would’ve called him up in the middle of night no matter what he was doing. Managers and representatives had supposedly been in the audience, so what happened? Luke knew they killed it - nay:  _ equalled  _ Bowie’s performance! Legendary, that was what they were! He conceded to Alex’ sneer about retaining their integrity, but it clearly didn’t work. Raven’s Nest was probably their biggest gig of the spring. 

Did they really lose their shot again out of spite? It  _ did  _ sound like a Sunset Curve blunder. Guilt creeped up his neck as he lathered his body with her lavender soap. Here he was, in some girl’s shower when his boys were probably miserable at home. He was the leader, he should keep morale up. Shit. Maybe this thing with Julie wasn’t ideal. Timing was off. He had to put all his focus in the boys and the band and  _ not  _ in a singer who already had her music playing in Trader Joe’s. 

His clothes were dirty as hell, but he’d be home soon anyway. The Uber driver wouldn’t care. Padding into the main living space, he took in the apartment. It was more colourful than he expected. Blue velour couch, a mess of rugs sprawled across the old parquet, fridge littered with magnets, a tv they clearly found on the side of the street, a large stereo with crates of cd’s propped near the wide, open windows. Julie and her roommate certainly weren’t minimalists. He liked it though - it suited her. 

She leaned against a cupboard of the old kitchenette, quietly sipping her coffee. Ignoring her exposed legs, he continued his search for his shoes. If the sex wasn’t good, he’d be embarrassed at how seemingly haphazard he’d thrown them away. 

“Saw one under the couch,” her raspy voice muttered. “Though that might be Posy’s doing.”

“Posy?”

On cue, a cat began mewling from the small, cement balcony. It was one of those creamy white cats with brown spots that every girl somehow owned. Posy flitted past his feet and disappeared into one of the open doors.

“I don’t know why, maybe she thinks she’s a dog or something. Me and Flynn found her as a stray two years ago.”

Luke frowned. “Weren’t you in college then?”

A mischievous wiggle of the brow made him chuckle, her finger pressing against her lips. “What the RA doesn’t know, doesn't hurt him.”

“Damn, Molina.”

“I know. Super rebellious.”

They smiled. His chest twinged uncomfortably. He should probably eat or something. “How’s the coffee?”

“Good…” Her smile mellowed, setting her cup down. “And I’m going to say no.”

His shoulders dropped, unable to hide the disappointment despite his own shower conclusions. “Why?”

Her arms crossed, shrugging. “I just don’t have time for guys like you.”

What the hell did that mean? “Guys like me?”

“Yeah.” She nodded at his physique. “Guys like you.”

What the hell? Was this the girl’s version of calling him a slut? Or did he do something genuinely horrible without realising? Regardless, he didn’t like the tone with which she said it. He straightened his back with a scoff. “Sounds like an insult to me.”

She pursed her lips. “It’s not. Not really. I need to focus and you’re a distraction. You get that, right? You know how ruthless the scene is.”

Continuing the search his other shoe, he threw over his shoulder: “You’re in supermarkets, apparently.”

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head.  _ “Once.  _ Reggie was exaggerating.”

“More than us,” he muttered. “And  _ we  _ deserve it.”

A bitter laugh puffed out. “You’re saying _ I _ don’t?”

“What?” He found the shoe, dropping to the floor to pull them on and caught her irritated stare. “No. No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just don’t get what that fucking comment was.”

“I don’t know what I meant either,” she bluffed. Luke snorted, at which her voice turned more biting. “That’s just how  _ I  _ feel. So, like,  _ accept that.” _

“Okay?” he let out, exasperated. Even if he hadn’t been sure either, she was pretty fucking into him just twenty minutes ago. He accepted that her opinion changed,  _ not  _ the bitchy tone she was using to exclaim it. He stood up. “This ‘guy’ is going. Thanks for the shower.”

She sniped, “Whatever.”

***

**L.A. Record**

**_SUNSET CURVE SHINES THEIR TALENT @RAVEN’S NEST_ **

  * SATURDAY MARCH 6TH, written: junior reviewer Kayla Caro



LA band Sunset Curve made their debut at Raven’s Nest. As always, they dialled it up to eleven with non-stop dancing, elaborate solos to show off their skills, and their usual arsenal of punk-rock songs. Though the stage had been set on fire, I can’t help but feel the set has become tired. Eleven doesn’t cut it anymore. I’d like to see what happens if they go to fifteen. Or, preferably, break the mould in its entirety.

Will the boys flicker out like the sunset, or break through with a new inspired sound and rise with the sun? 

★★★☆☆

***

All three boys gaped at Reggie’s laptop screen. This was getting ridiculous. 

“Eleven doesn’t cut it anymore,” Luke whispered, unable to keep the anger out. “Eleven. Isn’t. Enough. For. These. Assholes.”

After that shitty conversation with Julie and nearly killing his Uber driver with a cutting glare, he arrived home only to see his boys sullen and livid. They’ve refreshed the page multiple times, hoping that this was all some fucked up hallucination. It wasn’t. Was this it? They had to break the mould to be deemed worthy of the big leagues whilst Shawn Mendes copycats littered the streets of WeHo? While mumble rappers with tattooed knuckles got pushed on MTV? Fucking bullshit. 

“I don’t get it,” Reggie croaked, most devastated of all. “We played at  _ Raven’s Nest. _ Doesn’t that say enough? We’re  _ good.” _

“Guess not,” Alex mumbled. Of the three, he just seemed out of it. Nothing going on behind his eyes, no light or anger or mirth. Resignation, Luke realised. That either meant he was close to an anxiety attack, had to terribly smoke a blunt, or find solace with Willie.

He gulped. “Alex.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I’m- gotta go.”

Reggie and Luke watched as the blonde rushed out the door, the wood slamming back in its hinges. Horrible mornings seemed to have become a regular occurance now. Awesome. 

The bassist’s anxious fingers fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “New sound? What does that even mean? All we know is punk-rock.”

Luke didn’t know either, Julie’s voice ringing in the back of his head.  _ Guys like you. _ Was this what she meant? Guys that apparently wrote shitty lyrics, had a trite set and needed to completely overhaul their band’s aesthetic if they wanted to become known? A loser? Was that it? A loser oblivious to his own flaws. Alex was the most inept handling change, but this review rattled Luke too. He preferred the ones calling them sub-par, rather than these. Whoever this Kayla Caro was, they were _ disappointed.  _ The last thing Luke ever wanted was to disappoint a fan, to make them feel anything less than wonder when they listened to Sunset Curve. 

Perhaps that ached the most. The exhilaration he felt last night… wasn’t mutual. The connection was lost. He was going to throw up. 

The words came out choked. “I’m going on a run.”

“Luke-”

He didn’t wait, slipping into his running shoes like it was second nature. “Back in an hour.”

How could they soar so high, only to drop so low not even twelve hours later? His feet pounded to the heavy drum-n-bass, drowning out everything else. Every thought hurt. Every syllable of that damned review (for fucking L.A. Record no less)  _ hurt.  _ The band was in a vicious cycle and it was unravelling from its orbit, shooting out and inevitably going to hit them. A decade of love and ambition… for nothing? 

Anger simmered beneath his skin, ready to pop from his chest and spout heinous words and curses. Why was life so unfair?! Why couldn’t the universe treat him well - _ for once?  _ Sex wouldn’t solve anything nor the thrill of performing, if it led to nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.  _ (Yeesh, _ was this what it was like in Alex’ brain 24/7? Fucking hell.)

His chest burned, his breathing irregular, and doubled over to catch his breath. Hands clenched on his knees, he tried calming down. 

_ That’s just how I feel. So, like, accept that.  _ Julie’s voice coated with malice lodged itself like syncopation between his laboured breaths. She was right. That was how she felt. And right now, he felt like shit. His eyes squeezed shut. 

He hadn’t written out of anger in a while. It hurt too much, took too much. It chipped at his heart and soul and made him jaded. He preferred to hid that part of himself, liked to mirror Reggie’s jovial exterior, but it was there. Waiting. He didn’t want to write out of spite or anger or sorrow, didn’t want to lash out and cut someone the way the band was doing to themself right now. But he had to. If not, Luke was going to burst and shatter. 

So, he’d accept her feelings. Now it was in his right to use that. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, really - Luke has always been an opportunistic asshole.

Luke didn’t stop writing that Sunday. He stormed back in, relieved to find Reggie was gone, and locked himself in the glorified music room. It was just a closet meant for clothes, but they converted it to a silent spot to write. Reggie has found the best basslines here, Luke his most inventive lyrics. Right now, they were brimming from his fingertips, his pen eager to spill and spot and poke. Each scratch against the lined paper brought slivers of catharsis. 

Finally, after weeks of writers block, the dam has broken again. 

The pinch between his brows got him to focus on Julie’s scowl, her biting tone, her defensive stance, that annoying roll of the eye. The fact that they both wanted each other, but then she had to be dramatic about it. Her stupid fucking cat mewling on the balcony. Why couldn’t this one thing be easy? As he wrote, those familiar muses began to whisper melodies in his ear, heavy and like the slap of his feet when he ran. 

Pride crawled up his throat while muttering the lyrics to himself, a smirk forming. Julie and him were both shitty people and the song reflected that. It was perfect. Sure, maybe a bit overexaggerated - he hardly knew her - but it expressed his frustration. More importantly, it was a Sunset Curve hit in the making that wasn’t their typical sound. Kayla Caro can bite his fucking ass. 

Alex found him by nightfall, either from the manic humming or the gurgling of his stomach, with a concerned grimace. 

“Uh, Luke?”

He probably looked crazy, that feverish glint in his eye and the splitting grin. Springing upright, he wrestled the blonde into a hug. “I got it! The song!”

He sputtered from the impact, the boys nearly teetering to the floor. “The song?”

_ “The _ song,” Luke pressed. Shoving his songbook in his chest, Alex gingerly thumbed the page. He looked better than he did that morning, Luke noted. Willie had that magic none of the guys were ever able to master. 

His grimace deepened. “You wrote a revenge song?”

He rolled his eyes. “I mean, that’s  _ a bit _ dramatic. I’m not mentioning her or anything.”

“No, but she’ll know it’s about her.”

Dismissing it, he cracked the joints in his hand. Damn. If music wasn’t gonna kill him, it was a hernia. “I don’t care. This doesn’t concern her.”

Alex looked up, sympathetic. Before he could say anything else about it, Luke pushed the book back in his nose. Slowly, an earnest smile bloomed on the drummer’s lips, nodding and tapping his foot on the ground. Luke let out a relieved grin. If Alex was vibing with it, then they’d have no trouble convincing Reggie. 

They ordered Chinese and huddled around the coffee table, scarfing the food down as they bounced ideas back and forth. Reggie had been enthusiastic the second he got a glimpse of the lyrics. His screech trembled the entire apartment when he realised this would be a bass-heavy song, something he’d been begging for months. everything about this song was different. A good different.

In just twenty-four hours, Luke has gone through a whirlwind of emotions and barely slept, but the candles flickering inside his soul were still alight. Still hopeful. Sunset Curve could do this. They could make it. And if it was all thanks to Julie and Luke having sex, then he’d happily  _ accept  _ that. 

(He didn’t stop dreaming of her body though. At night, he let himself indulge in the memory of her fingers pressing into skin, of her sighs, of the way she uttered his name. If she wasn’t a singer, she’d be the muse of a dozen Renaissance painters.) 

The following week all three boys were obsessively focused on the creation of the song. Holed up in Dave’s garage slash studio, Alex drummed for hours on end in aimless meanderings trying to find the right progression, Reggie whipped up all the basslines he hadn't been able to use yet, Luke wracked his brain over the harmonies. It was exciting to be off the beaten path and pluck new ideas from the margins of the books. Normally he would’ve hated giving into their insecurities and the opinions of other people, but…  _ man.  _ This was what they've been needing.  _ New _ material, completely separate from their old stuff. 

Dave Lynch was a grumpy, old Californian dude who used to surf daily and now yelled at other surfers that they were doing it wrong. He was perpetually tanned, had a silvery beard and kind eyes that betrayed the tough exterior was just that: an exterior. Luke fucking loved that asshole. They met him on the beach four years ago when Reggie had a major wipeout on the board and thought he was seeing Jesus. Dave probably had the largest cassette collection in all of Orange County and, after a lot of begging, begrudgingly gave up his garage for the band to rehearse in. Secretly, he enjoyed it. Which Luke could say with confidence, because it hasn’t been a rarity to find the man peering into the windows to watch. It has become, aside from the glorified broom closet, the boys’ safe haven. 

Slowly, lyrics and instrumentals pieced themselves together. (Luke had a tendency to go completely manic about lyrics and be hung up on one word for hours on end, usually resulting in a fit or an irritated jam session to rid himself of that pent up energy. So yeah, he’d own up to that tedious process. Whatever - he was a  _ musician.)  _ During the first complete run through, a palpable thrill coursed between them. His stroke of inspiration was the lightning they’ve been seeking. 

Now, they had to test it out. 

Scouring their usual suspects, they found Eats & Beats was holding an open mic amidst all the poetry readings. They haven’t gone there in a while - it wasn’t exactly the Strip - but it felt like the right place to start. There was no shame on that stage, no expectations. If they fell on their asses, there’d be minimal damage. 

He had nerves. As he sat on those familiar mahogany chairs watching a Shawn Mendes lookalike (see!) croon into the mic, his stomach twisted itself into knots. Not only because the song was different, but because what if Alex was right. He had time to process his shitty, short-lived history with Julie now, and he didn’t want her to be mad if they properly released it and she listened to it. Luke didn’t want to be seen as a diva. By anyone! It was too late to back down though. Now or never. 

The emcee called them onstage and the guys took a steadying breath. He made the executive decision as the leader to make a big change, so he was going to guide his boys through the moment. 

“Hey,” he grinned into the mic, practised confidence radiating from his stance. “We’re Sunset Curve and this is ‘Easier’.”

Instantly, Reggie and Alex fell in with heavy drums and bass. Luke bopped his head to the beat, allowing his body to sink into the music and pull on the persona the song asked for. One half of a toxic couple. That might be his favourite part of performing, become someone else and craft a tale to hypnotise the audience with. Steeling his face and pressing his lips against the mic, the first lyrics tumbled out from his head voice. 

_ Is it easier to stay? Is it easier to go?  
_ _ I don't wanna know, oh  
_ _ But I know that I'm never, ever gonna change  
_ _ And you know you don't want it any other way _

The beat dropped. A smirk formed as he saw the surprised faces of the nearby tables. In just the intro, the band has completely changed the vibe of room. Nerves dwindled and were replaced with a sultry verse. 

_ Why do we always gotta run away?  
_ _ And we wind up in the same place  
_ _ It's like we're looking for the same thing  
_ _ Same thing, yeah  
_ _ Yeah, do we really gotta do this now?  
_ _ Right here with all your friends around  
_ _ In the morning, we can work it out  
_ _ Work it out _

The boys joined in, Luke glancing at Reggie to see a grin slipping on. He was feeling the shift too. 

_ I love you so much that I hate you  
_ _ Right now, it's so hard to blame you  
_ _ 'Cause you're so damn beautiful _

Even if he exaggerated certain parts, he’d never lie about that one. Luke belted the lyric. 

_ So damn beautiful! _

The crowd stood up in excitement, clapping along to the expert instrumentals and feeding Luke that energy to give it his all. 

_ Is it easier to stay? Is it easier to go?  
_ _ I don't wanna know, oh  
_ _ But I know that I'm never, ever gonna change  
_ _ And you know that you're always gonna stay the same _

The second verse slipped in with ease, the boys connected and trying to keep it unpredictable for themselves and the audience. An extra note, a surprise drum progression. And it worked. Fucking hell, _ it worked. _ Though it didn’t fit the angrier tone of the song, his smirk morphed into a bright smile by the chorus and bridge. He didn’t think of Julie or Kayla Caro or Raven’s Nest or the rent they had to pay, Luke was wholly in the moment.

When it ended, he laughed in the mic from pure adrenaline. The band bowed, relished the applause and bounced back to their table. Whoever came next had big shoes to fill. 

“Boys,” he grinned, throwing his arms around their shoulders. “We fucking did that.”

Alex’ blue eyes were shining. “Guys… I- I felt it. It’s not a ‘Crooked Teeth’ drum solo, but… I don’t hate this. This is  _ good. _ We can actually do something different have it work.”

Reggie leaned back with a content sigh. “I never doubted us.”

“You did,” Alex and Luke deadpanned simultaneously. 

He scoffed. “Fine - we  _ all  _ did!”

They celebrated by going back to Neon Affluenza, all happily drunk on shitty cocktails and hollering as Reggie sang ABBA after ABBA like it was his true calling. Willie arrived later in the night too, dancing and kissing with an over the moon Alex. When the hand of an unknown girl slid down his arm with a flirtatious smile, Luke knew this night was officially one of the best ones yet. 

***

**sunset curve owns me** **  
** **@lukeysbeanies001  
** OMG??? SURPRISE CONCERT OF SUNSET CURVE @eatsandbeatsla !!   
and omgggg is this abt a real person??? who hurt them???  
[blurry iPhone video: 450k views, 301k likes, 195k retweets] 

**yasmine bleep bloop** **  
** **@curvacioussunn  
** damn. never thought i’d see the day there’s DRAMA in the @sunsetcurve discord lmao. get ya pitchforks ladies who hurt our @lukepatterson ??? 

**derek of the not future** **  
** **@lifewithnotderek  
** are we surprised luke has toxic sex lmaooooo look at him #easier

**doing hot princess shit** **  
** **@oliviathephantom**   
the tl has been so dry im BEGGING ITS A FAMOUS PERSON AND THEY CLAP BACKKK #easier #sunsetcurve

**julie molina** **  
** **@thejuliemolina**

new youtube video out!! “easier” cover by @sunsetcurve   
[retweeted by @reggie_peters @merceralexx]

***

Well, damn. She definitely saw it. It was like they were playing kickball and instead of hitting her, she just slapped it back twice as hard. Luke did  _ not  _ anticipate this. 

After their performance at Eats & Beats blew up from some blurry recording (which embarrassingly got more views than most of their professionally produced once - argh), life blew up for the full fifteen minutes of social media fame. New people found them, many theories arose about who the person could be, his dm’s flooded with girls who’d “never hurt him like that” (yikes), and then, like a slam in the gut, did Julie Molina of all people post a cover. 

Though Alex called it “Queen shit!”, Luke felt a little nauseous. It probably meant she thought it was a good song, but what did she really get from it? Was she vengeful? Was this a message? Or did she just saw the value of covering a song that was currently getting hype and profiting off of that? He wouldn’t blame her; it was smart. So since he  _ didn’t  _ think about her anymore (not at all… absolutely never), he let the incident go. Julie had her career to focus on, he had his. 

It did bite him in the ass for a second when his boys retweeted the link and he didn’t, which left a handful of people confused, but not enough to start connecting the dots. 

He eventually watched the cover. She was in her bedroom he was intimately familiar with, propped at the end of her bed with nothing but a mic and pop filter. She redid the instrumentals to fit her voice and it sounded fucking incredible. Whenever she looked straight into camera, the piercing brown sharp with eyeliner, he felt like she was owning up to be the other half of the toxicity.  _ We just weren’t a good match, _ he imagined she’d say,  _ too intense, loverboy.  _

Meanwhile, Luke wrote more. Not about her, but in the same vein of thematics and atmosphere. It was broodier and sexier, simplified instrumentals, lyrics that found other comparisons to link with. Colour inspired him a lot, like the purple haze of Affluenza. During his runs, he left the headphones at home and listened to the cityscape for inspiration. It never translated itself into songs, but Luke was so fucking elated to feel this resurgence, for the tides to rise and spill past the banks he previously built for himself.

He couldn’t get her voice out his head though, the way she sung his lyrics. It was perfect. Eerily perfect. He envisioned the way her timbre would blend with his, the scratch and the rasp combining. And secretly, he knew she’d sound good on a couple of his new tracks. 

A month after the video, her name suddenly appeared in his dm’s. 

**do you have any experience with cameras?**

Luke blinked, eyes tracking the words over and over again. Was this… meant for him? He took the bait.

**kinda why?**

**roommate that normally does it is busy and i need to record a song  
** **i know we dont talk but i dont have anyone else to ask**

Before he could reply, she added:

**you can ignore this idc**

His heart lurched, fingers flying to the keys to tap out a reply. 

**no its cool i can help  
** **your place?**

**yeah  
** **thank you**

Not telling the boys where he was headed (they’d roast the shit out of him), he was surprised how easily he found his way back to her apartment. He’s only gone once and he had left seeing red with anger. It was a typical building: a yellowy-shite exterior, five storeys, a grey plaque filled with door bells. He called 4C. The slow walk up to her apartment felt agonising, but he didn’t want to be too quick. Didn’t want her to think he was eager, or nervous, or anything really. Luke was indifferent. Well… as indifferent he could be after a song about her blew up. Though he was  _ technically  _ an adult, some conversations he’d just rather not have. What was he supposed to say?  _ Woopsie, kinda got mad at that bitchy look on your face and made a three minute song about sex!  _ Whatever. If she didn’t bring it up, neither would be. 

Damn, Julie just needed his help manning the camera; why was he getting so worked up?

The door swung open five seconds after knocking, all of sudden face to face with Julie Molina. Somehow, he hadn’t prepared himself to actually  _ see  _ her. Sure, he’s watched her cover (and then many others) multiple times, but to see her again in the daylight, in real life, pores and freckles and all, was… unnerving. He swallowed back the nerves and smiled at her. Passing of the olive branch or some shit like that.

She smiled back. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he trailed, looking past her. “Can I come in?”

“Uh, yeah.” Spurred into motion, she let him in and quickly shut the door. “I know this is weird, but-”

“Only weird if we make it weird?”, he asked, hopeful.  _ Let’s not talk, please. _

She sighed, relieved. “Yes. Thank you.” Wiping her hands on her jeans, she added: “Okay, so Flynn normally does all the camera work but she got this gig with Live Nation.”

“Aw, nice.”

“Yeah,” she grinned. “But I’m planning the release of my next EP and this is the song I’m promoting it with. I  _ have  _ to get it out tonight.” 

He quirked a brow, amused. “You’re entrusting me with that information?”

Julie puffed, challenging that amusement with a cock of the head. “What percentage do  _ I  _ get for being the muse?”

Well, damn. Guess they were talking about it anyway. Following her into her room, he cautiously asked: “Are you mad about it?”

His attention got ripped away the second he saw her set-up. Curtains and blinds shut, the room shrouded in darkness save for the hologram galaxy projected onto her ceiling. It was then that he noticed her blue sweater was glowing in the dark. Holy shit. She had more artistic direction than the boys ever cared for. Oblivious to his awe, she tinkered with the position of the camera and pushed stuff out of the frame. The computer next to the camera was open on an audio software. 

Her voice was aimless. “At first, yeah. When I saw that video, I was ready to force you to get it deleted and not record the song. But it’s a  _ good  _ song. That kind of trumps the need to be petty. And…” Her eyes locked on his, timid. He only saw the whites. “You called me, uh, beautiful, so…”

The darkness hid his blush. He didn’t know what to say. He decided to go with the truth. “I never thought you were a bad person. Just not my kind of person.”

“Right,” she nodded. “That’s what I got from it too.”

The tension in his shoulders dissipated; tension he hadn't been aware was lingering. It was as if all that Luke needed was to talk to her again. The slow easing of conversation, without flirting, without trying, without trying to get in her pants. This was just her right now. In the dark and with her teeth glittering like a Halloween monster, but her. _ Just her.  _ He allowed his smile to widen. 

“Great.” Nodding at the camera, he said: “Now what about your song?”

She sat down at the edge of her bed and adjusted the mic to be in line with her mouth. “Yeah. All you have to do is make sure I’m never out of focus and, on the bridge, zoom in on my face. Think you can do that?”

“Doubting my skills?” he joked. 

Her face fell flat. “I have no clue what your skills are.”

“Fair.” He dismissed it with a wave. “Don’t worry about it - I got this.”

Julie gave him another pointed look, to which he straightened out his features and nodded. He wouldn’t fool around, he understood better than anyone how serious an artist took these recordings. How frustrating it was when it took more than twice. His finger hitting record, hers tapped play on her laptop. After seconds of silence, mysterious instrumentals reverberated throughout her bedroom. 

The blend of her echoing backing vocals, heavy piano and drums - and the hint of a tambourine in the distance - instantly warped him into the mystical land she crafted for her EP. A smile pulled on his cheeks. She hasn’t begun singing yet, but he was already so fucking happy to be experiencing this. Didn’t matter if their history was a bit wonky, she was a performer like him, a lover of the arts. Any creative person would be overjoyed to be here.

Her voice slipped in like butter, low and complimenting the atmosphere. 

_ I don't have to mention  
_ _ That I saw you today  
_ _ I shone the sun into your eyes  
_ _ And you don't always have to question  
_ _ Why there's pleasure and pain  
_ _ Because there's no truth for you to find _

It wasn’t as upbeat and poppy as her other music he previously listened to, but this wasn’t bad either. The memory of her belting out Lizzo at Neon Affluenza pushed itself to the forefront fo his mind. It was as if she had to characters to choose from: this mature singer trying to make it big, and the sexy karaoke performer.

Her voice was airy and technically flawless, Luke having a hard time focusing on the camera and not on the beautiful way she modified her vowels and blended her chest and head voice. 

The second verse upped the tension for the chorus to break through. And when it did, it felt like waves into the cliffs as her belt ricocheted and drilled into his ears. Julie was… there were no words to describe what her voice did at that moment.

_ When the devil's waiting  
_ _ Down by the river calling out  
_ _ I wanna be  
_ _ The one to light up the dark in you  
_ _ And when the flood is over  
_ _ And all the love is pouring out  
_ _ I wanna be  
_ _ The one to light up the dark in you _

Her face screwed shut from the intensity, hands hovering next to her as she hit the soulful notes. 

_ Light up the dark in you!  _

She jumped into the bridge with an even higher pitch and flowing riffs. Before he got too distracted, he zoomed in and watched from up close how her eyes blazed into the camera. Like a challenge. Like she was taunting the viewer to enter this new era of her music. Luke was speechless. 

After another repeat of the chorus, the instrumentals dwindled and quieted, the galaxy fading with it until the room was pitch black. No one dared to breath. 

Julie whispered first. “And?”

His heart was beating a mile a minute. “Yeah. It was- you’re good. It’s good. You’re really good, you’re-” His words stumped short as she stood up and flicked on the lights. His eyes burned at the sudden brightness, harsh yellow lighting reflecting onto the wooden flooring. Coming to stand next to him, she hit replay in the camera and inspected it for a beat. 

Luke couldn’t read her. Her face was expressionless, meanwhile he was kind of going insane. Listening to Julie, up close in private, was an otherworldly experience. And this song. Fucking hell, this song. It was as if she saw her older music, spit on it, and then decided to go a grungier route instead. He’d lie if he said that wasn’t attractive.

It blurted out. “Is it about me?”

She snorted, gaze flitting from the screen to him. “I had a life  _ before  _ you, Luke. Not everything leads back to you.”

He raised his hands in surrender and stepped away from the equipment. “Well, damn, okay.” Letting his eyes wander across the rest of the room, he added: “Who is it about then?”

She didn’t say anything for a while. He knew she heard him, as her fingers had stilled on the buttons of the camera, but he guessed he shouldn’t push her when their relationship was pretty fragile right now. His interest piqued at an open notebook on her desk. 

“My ex,” she eventually said. He looked up from his inspection. “All the songs on my EP I wrote when we were still together and… I don’t know, I finally felt ready to record them. He’s not emotionally connected to them anymore. Does that make sense?”

“Y-yeah! Yeah, I have songs like that too.” About his estranged family, but semantics weren’t important. “That’s really cool.”

“Thanks,” she smiled, quietly bashful. 

He held up pieces of lined paper. “So this one too?”

She blinked. Once. Twice. “Uh, well, first of all: that was private.”

“It’s on your desk.”

“And you snooped.”

He made a face.  _ “Julie.” _

With a roll of the eye, she took a few strides forward and snatched it from his grasp. Flattening the crinkles he made, she placed it on her dresser. “Yes, it’s about him as well. He was supposed to duet it with me and I’ve been trying to transpose it into a solo, but it just hasn’t been working. Doesn’t matter, it’s not your problem.”

His head tried to catch up on her spiel of words. All he heard was ‘duet’ and ‘transpose’ and that her ex was apparently a singer. (Did she… have a type?) They walked back into the living room, their hangout coming to a close, all while his mind was mulling over a lost music opportunity. It felt wrong.

“What if-” Nope. Wrong fucking idea. “Never mind.”

Her brows raised. “No, what?”

He sped past her with an awkward chuckle. If only he could keep his fucking mouth shut for once. “Nah.”

“Luke,” she pressed, his hand freezing on the doorhandle. “Tell me.”

He gave her a desperate glance. Could she not just let it go? Sure, they just shared an awesome music moment, but he still fucked her twice and both were pretending this new dynamic was completely normal when it  _ very much wasn’t.  _

He tried. “It’s a bad idea.”

Julie was stubborn however. “There’s no such thing as a bad idea.”

He sighed, hand falling limp on his side and coming to stand right in front of her. Her eyes widened, surprised brown locking with peering green. Just this alone, this closeness, felt wrong. He hoped it was enough as a sardonic grin slid on. 

“What if I sang it with you?”

Her lips pursed, pained. “You’re right. It’s a bad idea.”

“Yup.” His stance mellowed back to something more casual, taking a step back. Connecting through music would, in an ideal situation, be the best thing ever for Luke. He was still thinking about those songs he wrote that would fit her. But connecting meant potentially falling back into the same shit, which he specifically condemned in ‘Easier’ and she, apparently, agreed with. It was a bad idea through and through.  __

“Thanks for the offer,” she continued. “But no. It’s… personal. Which you  _ know  _ cause you  _ snooped.” _

Luke wasn’t apologetic. The song was good; it’d be a crime if he  _ hadn’t  _ seen it. “Curiosity never killed the cat.”

“It _did,”_ she deadpanned. “You messed up the saying.”

“Oh, damn. Really? Never killed me at least.” An easy grin came on. This felt like a squabble he’d have with Alex. He could see why his boys were acquainted with her now, a casual back and forth that, if he wasn’t ready to leave, could keep up for another hour or so. Luke almost made a face. Friends with Julie? Was that possible? After everything? She did ask him for her help… 

He didn’t linger on the thought, saluted, and left. From now on, he and Julie would just be acquaintances. Supportive on social media, the occasional talk, a helping hand if times were desperate. He’d be relegated to “one of the boys” of that one band and  _ not  _ the guy she slept twice with, which he could live with. It was an oddly mature decision for Luke. Normally, he’d have no qualms asking for her number again, pushing, trying - but Julie and him seemed so similar at times (like the way she worked her way through songs as if she was singing it for the first time) that it freaked him out and rather kept a safe distance. That distance being the lines they’ve drawn right now. He wouldn’t snoop (even though he didn’t, she was just messy) and she wouldn’t be so stubborn to know every single thought of his. 

Acquaintances. Perfectly safe. 

That midnight, Julie dropped her music video. She was shrouded in that purply-blue haze, looking even more mystical with a bit of editing. The audio was crisp, the video in focus, and it was steadily climbing in views. His dm's flooded with question marks and exclamation points when it did. Upon further inspection, he realised she has credited him for videography in her description. Keeping the camera from blurring and zooming in once didn’t call for credit in his opinion, but it did confirm his own thoughts. Julie and him were on good terms. No bad blood. Safe, safe, safe. 

When he went to bed that night, he dreamt of her again. He hoped it would’ve been a pleasurable one, but instead he got the memory of her singing. Over and over and over again. Dream Julie was meandering in his apartment in that purple haze as she sang her songs on loop. He was like a fly on the wall, watching. Then it morphed into ‘Easier’ and she began to dance like she did in Raven’s Nest, so loud and so bold that it awoke him with a start. Sweating, he saw it was four am. Luke puffed. He was an early riser, but not  _ that  _ early. Should he go on a jog maybe? Get a head start on a new song he’s been tinkering with? 

(Argh. He hated being safe.) 

Her fucking voice. It didn’t stop. Even awake, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. And it wasn’t about the cold spot next to him, it wasn’t about her reluctance to give her number, it wasn’t about any of that. The way she sang just twelve hours, embracing each note like it was a friend and allowing the world to see. The way she smiled when she ended, catharsis better than any bedroom escapade. 

Why the fuck did he say it was a bad idea? Didn’t he pride himself for being _ professional? _ A creative spirit? That he owned a soul that lived and breathed and beat for music? If that was true - and he knew it was true - then why skate around the  _ fantastic  _ idea of collaborating? Her new EP was coming out in a week. The song was special to her, it’d be a shame if it didn’t make it onto the track list and have it vanish in a pile of other discarded concept. Was the content romantic? Sure, but they could push past that. They were fucking  _ adults.  _ He had to ask her again. 

Luke couldn’t show up at her apartment though. They were colleagues, not quite friends yet. Dropping in unannounced like they were childhood friends was not the move, though he would’ve tried that had the situation been different. Busting down doors and all that. 

_ You fucking zillenials, _ Dave would grump through his teeth as it clamped a cigarette, _ just talk to her.  _

He couldn’t crash her place, but he could show up at her work, right? That was allowed. Not creepy at all. He had the right to go in for a coffee and the fact that she coincidentally worked there was not his fault. A satisfied grin crawled up his sleepy face. His insatiable hunger for creating art wouldn’t annoy him long. Knowing that, Luke pulled on his running gear, plugged his earphones in and went out for his jog. 

As the city brightened around him, the sun beating in his back and the pink sky lifting his spirts, he felt the shift. The rumbling of cars and the smell of smoke and salt and the faraway sounds of seagulls and the crashing of the waves. His even breathing, synced with the beat of his heart. The awakening of Los Angeles might be the most beautiful song of all… and he had a feeling him and Julie were about to challenge that.

After probing Reggie for her workplace address, he was surprised to find it within walking distance of their apartment. It was right in the middle between both their places, to be exact. Yup. Fucking fate. Luke had zero doubts now. 

_ Magnolia Mocha  _ appeared around the corner. A simple white frontage with a black banner, the words spelled out with moss and flowers. It had wide, open windows and a terrace with steel chairs and tables. For a beat, the cliché of the moment settled in his stomach. _ Of course, _ Julie worked in a coffee shop - like every other artist trying to make it in Hollywood. Luke worked in one himself for a year when he was nineteen. Coffee during the day, pouring beers at night. He could make a mean cold brew back then. 

The bell jingled above his head, his eyes lazily drifting across the space. It was the afternoon, the morning rush presumably tempered down to a few people quietly sipping their drinks. Most hovered over a laptop, no doubt working on a manuscript for a pilot that would fail or a book that would never get published. LA was truly a massacre for the dreamers. Sometimes, the boys fantasised about moving to New York City for a change of pace. They were too attached to California and never would, but the pinched brows of these strangers reminded him of it.

“What’re you doing here?”

He looked away from the people and caught sight of a confused Julie behind the counter. Her hair was in a French braid, her name stitched on a dark blue t-shirt, eyeliner sharpening her eyes. That seemed to be a staple, he realised. 

Smirking, he came forward. “Can’t get a coffee, Molina?”

She bit down a smile. “Here? Where Reggie told you I worked?”

Still never one to beat around the bush. He ignored her comment and glanced at the board behind her. “A cappuccino to go, please. And I have something to discuss with you.”

Her braid flicked over her shoulder as she turned to the machine, grinding of the beans overpowering his voice. His fingers drummed against the counter with impatience, tongue pressed into his cheek. Unable to wait, he hopped over the barrier and landed on her side. Julie squeaked from the surprise attack, nearly spilling the scalding hot coffee over her hand. 

“Oh, shit!”

Setting it down with a scowl, her arms flailed around. “What do you think you’re doing? I  _ work  _ here, Luke, you can’t just-”

“Reconsider the song.”

She blinked. “What?”

“What’s going on?” Another girl came from the back, halting in bewilderment at the sight of Luke and his dirty footprints on the counter. “Uh…”

Her eyes ripped away from his pleading stare. “Sorry, Olivia. He’s, uh, a friend of mine and has no idea how society goes.”

“Damn,” he whistled. “Always so sweet.”

Olivia wasn’t amused. “Please get back. You’re not allowed to pass the register.”

Raising his hands in surrender (cause he was not about to fight to frowning girls that could  _ definitely  _ take him down if they wanted to), he slipped back to his original spot and wiped down the counter with the sleeve of his flannel. Olivia rolled her eyes, mumbled something about ‘handling this’ and disappeared again. 

Luke nodded at her retreating back. “She’s nice.”

Julie scoffed. “She’s doing her job - and what did you say before she came in?”

“Oh, yeah.” His face lifted in excitement, propping his elbows to lean into her side. Compromise, right? “Your song? Let’s duet it.”

Her confusion deepened. “Didn’t we agree it was a bad idea?”

“That’s the thing!” His voice dropped from enthusiasm, nose scrunched and hands balled. “It’s  _ not  _ a bad idea. Might be the best idea ever! C’mon, Julie, you  _ know  _ our voices fit together-”

“Do I?”

“Well…” He cringed. Now he had to admit he thought about her on his own time.  _ “I  _ do. I know they do. Don’t you wanna put the song on your EP? It’s a  _ great  _ song, it deserves to be listened to.”

Her eyes averted, shaking her head. “I was going to make it into a solo.”

He leaned in more. “Which wasn’t working.”

“Not  _ yet,” _ she pressed. 

“Julie.”

Her piercing eyes found his again, accusatory. “Why do you even care? Is this-”

Fervently shaking his head, he exclaimed: “No! No, this is not about that.” He sighed. “I’m coming to you as an _ artist,  _ Julie. I want you to have this killer song and I think I’m your best shot at bringing it to life.”

Her chin raised, but the shimmer in her eye told him her resolve was weakening. She was considering it. Another beat passed before she said: “That’s awfully confident of you.”

“It’s the truth,” he shrugged, both knowing he was correct. “I’m not asking you for anything else. Just music.”

Wordlessly, she stuck a lid on his cup and placed it on a paper napkin. He didn’t take it, kept his gaze on her as he awaited a response. He wouldn’t leave until he had one. A yes, preferably.

“Okay,” she eventually mumbled. He sighed in relief, sinking in his heels. “Do you have time tomorrow?” 

He didn’t. Him and the boys were supposed to rehearse a new song of his at Dave’s, one he knew that could officially rebrand Sunset Curve as a band that didn’t  _ just  _ do punk-rock. It was an important rehearsal and after, they were going to a skateboard competition to cheer Willie on. Luke did not have time. But fuck, the temptation was too tantalising. 

His smooth reply didn’t raise eyebrows. “Yeah, sure. Where should I meet you?”

Her smile when he did was worth the lie, bright and open. His stomach knotted up at the sight. “Oh. Just my place.”

He paused with a blink, stupefied. “You rehearse  _ inside  _ your apartment?” 

That was how he found himself eleven AM the next day in Julie’s spare bedroom turned recording studio. As opposed to the band who had to drive thirty minutes to Dave’s, she had everything she needed here. The space to rehearse and record instrumentals and a small, insulated closet for vocals. The cost of all the equipment must’ve been insane.

He quirked a brow at her, eyes sweeping across the various synths and glossy keyboard. “Damn, Julie. You’re  _ rich  _ rich.”

The girl laughed, closing the door with a bowl of hummus and carrots in her hand. “I’m not. It was my, uh, my mom’s.”

The idea parents were allowed to be openly supportive about their kid’s creative interests astounded him, but Luke reckoned unpacking all of that was for a later date. They first had to  _ not  _ kill each other making this song. (If the boys didn’t kill him first. They were pretty angry when he told them his plans changed and couldn’t get out of it. What the commitment was, however, he kept to himself. The punch of betrayal wouldn’t hit as hard if the song got successful.)

“Oh, dope. Makes sense.” He clapped his hands. “Wanna go over the song? See how we can go about it?”

After a slow start as they figured out how to position themselves (not too far away, cause that was lame, but not too close either, given… everything), they got to work. The song hasn’t lost its magic since the first time he saw it. Though it was a love song and Luke didn’t do love, the earnest emotions behind the lyrics were enough to draw him in. He was a sucker for metaphysical similes! Sue him! They easily found common ground on how the instrumentals should go, him on the acoustic guitar and her on the piano, a quick back and forth that didn’t need many words. Somehow, they  _ got  _ each other. It was weird, but not unwelcome. 

He came up with a chord progression first. Slow and soulful, lacking the grungy atmosphere from her other songs on the EP, though just as spirited. It kind of sounded like something he’d start randomly riffing at a bonfire, but she said it was fitting when he confessed that. She wanted to have that tonal switch, a “breather” between the four songs. 

Inspired by the progression, she told him to keep looping that and, after her hands hovered over the keys for a minute, began to play a melody. The rich piano filled in the gaps and brought life to his otherwise campy tune. Smiles bloomed on their faces when she found the right notes and played the song until their heartbeats were replaced with the sound. Luke got a bit cocky then, experimenting with riffs and unexpected notes to add some funk, Julie expertly following him down that path and leading them to a newer, more exciting place. 

Jamming with the guys was fun, but with Julie? Totally different experience. They haven’t said anything in thirty minutes yet were completely on the same wavelength. He didn’t need to ask her to know it was true. How they almost let this chance at musical synchronicity go over some awkward history was fucking insane.

Julie hummed the first verse and stopped playing. “Uh, I think- okay.” She stood up and sat next to him on the small, old couch propped in the corner. The lyrics were in her hands. “It’s heavy on your part, since it was based on what Nick used to say, and-”

“Nick?”

“Oh.” She looked up, sheepish. “My- the ex… who the song is about.  _ Used  _ to be about.”

It left before he wanted to. “Tough break-up?” Argh! Why did he even  _ ask  _ that? If she started crying, he was going to run the hell out of here. 

She shrugged, a tight smile pressed on her lips. “We were together for two and a half years and then he broke up with me because he felt like he always came second place. Which is ironic, since he played the guitar for most of the music I made in college.” Her eyes rolled, adding: “As if his lacrosse frat dude bros weren’t like, the people he’d die for.”

Catching his surprised look, she jumped back to the piano. “Not your problem. Let’s try it out, okay? Red pen’s your part.”

He frowned, fingers digging the strings. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll lead us in.”

Letting go of his worry, he focused on the papers she left on the couch and placed it on his thigh. He found the chords to blend with hers and began to sing. Her eyes burned in his temple as he did, his own pointedly kept on the lyrics. Every once in a while, Julie sang with him, and then-

Luke abruptly stopped. “Nope. Not working.” Without warning, he stood up and dragged the couch towards the keyboard with a screech. Julie cringed as the rugs scrunched and puckered. “Let’s try it like this.”

Her lip tugged, amused. “What, you don’t feel the connection six feet over there?”

“Yeah,” he flat-out said. “You have that look on your face-”

“I don’t have a  _ look.” _

“You do and the vibes aren’t good.”

Tilting her head, the wrinkle on her forehead disappeared. “I feel like only Alex and Reggie speak Luke-lingo.”

He laughed. “Just go again.”

This time, it went better. He somewhat memorised the lyrics and was able to look at her when the chorus came. A gentle smile played on her face and that strange feeling coursed through him again. Which was probably because the song was kind of intimate and he didn’t casually croon romantic musings into guys’ faces (unless he wanted to annoy them), but it wasn’t unpleasant either. It was something. It was  _ unimportant. _ They had a song to perfect. 

With each run through, the feeling dwindled. Singing a love song wasn’t so daunting after ten tries. Julie was eventually satisfied and wanted a first recording of it. They changed the organisation of the room again, pushing and shifting stuff out of the way, and propped a mic in between the keyboard and his chair for them to share. 

“It doesn’t matter if it’s rough,” she said. “Just so we can listen to it and hear what needs to be fixed.”

He teasingly flicked two fingers against his forehead. “Aye, aye, boss.”

That smile of hers widened. “Just sing, loverboy.”

Well, fuck. That was definitely the wrong thing to say to him right now. She wanted him to sing these lyrics when she just reminded him of their mindblowing sex? Awesome. Mustering the image out of his head (which wasn’t working), he tried to focus on the familiar melody instead. And then he sang.

_ Can you imagine what would happen  
_ _ If we could have any dream?  
_ _ I'd wish this moment was ours to own it  
_ _ And that it would never leave _

Slowly, Luke sunk back into the story of the song and let go of that festering nickname. He shifted closer to the mic, quickly grasping for the lyrics in his head before he forgot them. 

_ Then I would thank that star  
_ _ That made our wish come true _

Julie joined him on the “come true” softly, the both of them still adjusting to harmonising with a new partner. He caught her eye (which was a mistake) and smiled. 

_ 'Cause he knows that where you are  
_ _ Is where I should be too _

A pause. A breath. A beat before the storm. 

_ Right here, right now  _

His voice struck down like thunder as he belted the chorus, the strumming fastening and tightening and unable to stop looking at her which was a mistake, mistake, mistake. 

_ I'm lookin' at you and my heart loves the view  
_ _ 'Cause you mean everything   
_ _ Right here, I promise you, somehow  
_ _ That tomorrow can wait   
_ _ For some other day to be   
_ _ But right now, there's you and me _

Julie took on the second verse and Luke was freaking out. The feeling he had before resurged tenfold. It was overpowering, larger than his voice or hers or this room or the entire apartment. 

_ A bend in the universe  _ they sang, a metaphysical lyric he would’ve gushed about if he wasn’t losing his shit. 

_ Is gonna make everything   
_ _ In our whole world change   
_ _ And you know that where we are   
_ _ Will never be the same _

Their voices faded in and out, each taking and overlapping lines and finding colour and soul in the sound. Julie brought so much life to each syllable it took him everything to keep going and not just listen like he did before. Because if he could, he’d prop his head on his hand and cherish the way her lips formed notes. 

He must’ve looked dazed, as suddenly the song ended and he hadn’t reacted and Julie had to scrape her throat for snap him out of it.

Flinging himself from the chair, he stuttered out vowels. “Uh- I- yeah- that was- sounded good, right?”

She stared at his frenzied body like he lost his head. “Uh, yeah. Are you… okay?”

Nope. He couldn’t do this. They both sang ‘Easier’. They both acknowledged they were bad for each other. His brain should stop fucking with him and get back on track. Derailing it for Julie was pointless. This feeling, this warm giddiness that squeezed his chest, was purely Luke’s instinctual reaction whenever he made friends. Luke was affectionate and enthusiastic and jumped into the unknown without thinking. Julie and him becoming amicable, not just acquaintances, made him excited. That was it. Nothing more. The realisation made him take a relieved breath.

He relaxed again. “Yeah. Sorry, I just get really excited about nailing it, you know? This felt great, right? We got it!”

Julie grinned at his new reaction, her fingers whispering above the keys like she was reliving it. “It did feel great. You’re a better singer than Nick, so…”

His feet brought him closer. “Was that a  _ compliment?” _

“It’s very easy to be a better singer than him,” she deadpanned, though the mirth lacing her tone told him that  _ yes, it was a compliment.  _ It also made him abnormally happy he was better than the asshole breaking up with Julie over something as music.

“Nah.” His toothy snark pulled him back to the mic, lips grazing the metal. “I’m taking it.” 

The front door opened, the sound of heavy boots clacking. “I’m home, my darling!”, a girl yelled with a butchered British accent.

Julie stifled a giggle, standing up and walking out the studio. The sudden gust of air made him blink. Right. The world of the living still existed. Sometimes he got so into the process of creating music that he forgot time and space and people revolved around him at their own pace. The orbit of music slowed down now. 

Luke finally met the elusive Flynn. He put two and two together and realised she was the DJ from Neon Affluenza, as well as the girl Julie was with at Raven’s Nest. Just like Julie, Flynn was a petite powerhouse with more bark than bite, but a gentle quality simmering beneath the surface. Their friendship made a lot of sense. The girl had given Julie a salacious look at the sight of him, to which she quickly shook her head.

“We’ve upgraded to music partners,” she joked. “We’re going to record ‘Right Here, Right Now’ for the EP.”

Flynn frowned. “It comes out in five days.”

“We already made a dope first draft,” Luke boasted, earning an excited nod from Julie. He still needed adjusting to being dubbed as a ‘music partner’ and ‘friend’ in less than twenty-four hours and how smoothly that all went, but it was nice. Those nods he could get used to. 

Her friend’s unfazed expression didn’t change. “‘Dope’?”

Julie dismissed it. “Don’t even bother.”

Luke gaped. “I’m  _ right here.”  _ But then his gaze fell past the girls onto the large clock on the wall and froze. Five o’clock. The competition  _ started  _ at five on Venice. He promised the boys he’d be there after ditching rehearsal and now he was late for that too. Shit, shit, shit. Alex was going to kill him. 

The girls shared a confused look. “Luke?”, Julie asked. 

Not responding, he ran back to her studio and threw his guitar in its case, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Guilt dripped from his ribs into his stomach. It was bad enough he went behind their back to help another musician, didn’t need to add to the fire by disappointing Willie. He knew the skateboarder would be fine without him, but Luke kept his promises. He  _ promised  _ Willie he’d be there. Pushing past the girls, he yelled an aimless “gotta go!” and slammed the door shut. 

By the time he arrived, Willie’s allotted time had already passed and Alex was shooting him dead with the nastiest glare a person could ever muster. Slowly approaching his friends, he held his hands up. 

“I got caught up,” he tried. It was loud though, swarms of skater fans chattering and hollering for another contestant expertly pulling off tricks on the ramp. It smelled like weed and sweat, loud punk music playing from the amps and faraway chimes of screeching children on the beach. Though Reggie seemed disappointed, he too was smoking a joint and preferred to focus his glassy eyes on the grey plumes dancing around him. “I got caught up!”

Alex shook his head. “Yeah! I heard you the first time! What the fuck?! You can’t just disappear for a full day, Luke.”

The guilt doubled down, tightening the muscles in his neck. “It was- it’s music stuff.”

“Music stuff?” He frowned. “You rain-checked rehearsal today.”

Trying and failing to massage the knots away, his hand sheepishly fell back to his side. Gotta come clean. He couldn’t lie to his boys. “It was for Julie.”

Reggie perked up at that, surprised. Alex looked equally lost. “The girl you fucked and then wrote a song about how toxic it was? That Julie?”

“Yup.” On second thought, it sounded absolutely insane what they were doing. Damn. He was glad Julie didn’t wanna overthink it either. 

The exasperated drummer barely kept his cool. “I- okay. Uh,  _ why?” _

“We’re cool again. I mean, not like  _ that, _ but we found… I don’t know, middle ground?” It sounded like a lie, but he trucked on. “I found a duet she didn’t get to record and I volunteered to sing it with her.”

Reggie tapped the joint with a flicker of confusion. “You don’t like pop. I would know, you bashed all the country-pop songs I’ve written.”

“I told you, Reg! Just make a solo EP if you love it so much!”

Pressing a hand on his shoulder, the blonde cut in. “You do realise it’s  _ easier  _ to ask her out and not, like, make music, right?”

Luke swatted his hand away with a frustrated groan. “But I don’t wanna ask her out! We had sex, but there’s no ‘spark’ or whatever outside of that.”

“So friends with benefits,” Reg proposed. 

Damn, if he had to fill them in on his musings from weeks ago, than he must’ve been more distracted than he originally thought. He hated that feeling of a barrier, normally so in tune with his guys and now stumbling to fall back in line. Yeesh, Julie really took more space in his mind than he preferred. “She didn’t want that. I didn’t either really.”

“Luke, just… keep your focus on the band, okay?” Alex’ brows anxiously pinched together. “We’re finally getting somewhere with this new material.”

“Yeah, of course!” The smile felt cramped. “Don’t worry about it.”

The boys were interrupted by the emcee jumping on the small platform near the panel of judges and announced it was the end of the competition. The rowdy audience quieted down instantly. Alex dropped the prickly attitude and pushed some people aside to get a better look. Reggie propped his arm on Luke’s shoulder, a forgiving smile tugging on his thin lips. The guitarist smiled back. If the world went up in flames, Reg would still be there and he’d never take that for granted. 

Willie came up second. The tanned skater with the flower hair proudly stood on the platform, thanking the judges and dropping his neck to accept the medal. The loudest cheer came from Alex, Willie’s beam fixed on him when he caught sight of him and making a heart shape with his hands. They were  _ grossly  _ in love. Luke couldn’t blame Alex though - the guy was cool as fuck. Twenty-six, tattooed sleeve, professionally skating to support his art gallery downtown, and  _ hot.  _ Truly the catch of the century. Their meeting was so serendipitous it almost sounded fake. Apparently Willie had seen him at a gig and then accidentally crashed into him on the pier not even a week later. That was three years ago and they’ve been going strong since. (One night at a bar when all were drunk and loopy, Willie had whispered in his ear that it was accidental, that he very intentionally pancaked Alex when he recognised the mop of blonde. His confidence was equally admirable as terrifying.) 

When the ceremony ended, Alex wrapped Willie in a tight hug and kiss. Luke apologised for his tardiness to which he, naturally, dismissed it like the cool dude he was. 

“Got my good luck charm right here,” he joked with a wink, Alex’ smile widening bashfully.

To try and make amends, Luke exclaimed: “Let’s go to bar. I’m paying!”

Which was how they found themselves in O’Reilly’s - an Irish pub the guys took great pleasure in emptying Luke’s pocket with heavy beers and finger food. He should’ve expected it, but he reckoned he kind of deserved it too. O’Reilly’s was typical: a dive bar only locals went to, dark and grimy, with great music and a billiards table in the back for guys like Dave to bet money on who would win. It was fucking awesome. The boys have gone here before they were even allowed, using fake’s to be part of the culture. It was still early in the evening. Luke knew that by midnight they’d push the tables out of the way to dance and make new friends through a drink and a laugh. 

Willie recounted the competition for him. All the while, more and more people filed into the bar and shrouded the space with chatter and the chime of glasses. Music got amped up, bartender Pablo starting to drink with one of the regulars; this night was going to be  _ fun.  _

By eleven, when Luke was pretty inebriated and his heartbeat lost in the clamour, he noticed them. The platform boots of Flynn and the long curls of Julie. He paused. Was he… imagining the girls right now? The latter leaned over the bartop to kiss Pablo on the cheek and exchange a few grinning words. Flynn caught sight of their group first, yelling Reggie’s name and enveloping him in a tight hug. The bassist saw Luke’s confusion and made a phone sign with his hands. So even after all the shit he got for hanging with Julie… they were now hanging with Julie? What kind of fuckery-

“Hey!”, she yelled in his ear. The girl was out of her blue joggers and into leather pants. Luke swallowed back the dry lump in his throat. Sober him would scold him for thinking her legs were sexy, but drunk him let the thoughts roll and settle. Was she  _ trying  _ to make him do something stupid? 

A lazy smile spread on his lips and drawled: “Hey, missed me?!”

She rolled her eyes and sat down in the free seat next to him. Her face was so close to his as she spoke. “Reggie said you guys were ‘a packaged deal’ so if  _ we’re  _ friends, then we  _ all  _ have to hang out.”

Luke blinked. “What the fuck.”

The smile crawling on her face was enough for him to drop his eyes and stare at it. They were friends, he got that, and they didn’t want the benefits, he got that too, but right now - right now he did  _ not.  _ If she noticed, she didn’t comment on it and simply tapped her nail against his glass. “What’re you drinking?”

“Uh, an IPA.” His nose curled. “Not sure if I like it.”

She took a sip and matched his expression. “Nope. Not my thing either.” Her neck craned to the side, peering at the board behind the bar. “I’m getting a Cuba libre, you?” 

It spilled out before he gave it any proper thought. Then again, the filter Luke did have - which was already very thin to begin with - completely dissipated like two hours ago. “Buddy?” 

That infuriating brow of hers quirked up. “So, we’re blacking out?”

“You got anything to do tomorrow?” he slurred. Luke just wanted her to get on his level and have a drunk mate to be stupid with. That nice buzz he now had could definitely be heightened to a full on haze. Sometimes, only  _ remembering  _ that you had a good time (and not  _ how) _ was the best way to spend it. So fuck it: let him drown in brown eyes and sticky rum for the night.

“No. Alright.” Slamming her hand on the table, she stood up with a grin. “Fuck it.” 

His jaw fell slack, surprised how quickly she agreed. Before she could sneak her way to the bar, he grabbed onto her wrist. “Okay, sweet. But if we’re buddies, Julie, then we’re splitting the tab.” Shooting a scowl at his friends that probably looked more like a drunk grimace, he added: “The guys already got me broke.”

Her look she gave him was enough to tighten his fingers around his skin, and when she leaned in, her mouth uttered the word that made the temperature rise. “Deal.” 

And so, Julie and him drank and talked. 

While the bar pushed the tables aside to dance, the crowd clouded in whirling lights, laughter and chanting, they sat in their own little bubble. For the first time ever, they held a proper conversation. How ‘proper’ it could be in a bar full of drunkards (them included) but still.

He talked about the band and the odd jobs he worked and how his friends were fucking weirdos. She gushed about her friends and her love for Neon Affluenza and piano, but how fucking mundane university used to be. She went on an endless spiel about a horrible professor and did such a good impersonation that beer nearly sprayed from his nose. They found common ground on the terrible ending of ‘Friends’ and how Rachel deserved better than Ross. It was then that Julie leaned so far into the table to make a point (“It was  _ Paris, _ for fucks sake!”) that the bottle of vodka they copped from Pablo teetered to the floor and all they could do was laugh their asses off cause they were  _ drunk, drunk, drunk.  _ It was almost empty anyway. Luke drifted on the tides of Julie’s sweet voice, the twang of tequila and the rush of salt hitting his nose.

He whispered in her ear that he was happy to be drunk with her. When she whispered back to ask if that was a pick-up line, he said she was full of shit and an egomaniac. She replied by shrugging coyly over the rim of her glass. It was hot and mindless and fun and Luke felt his eyes blurring. He didn’t remember the details after a while. The bass of the music was too heavy. The last person he recalled breaking their bubble was Flynn, telling Julie she was leaving as she had work early. Julie telling her that she’d stay for a bit longer, that Luke was going to help her home (he never agreed to that, but then again, he could also just not remember) and how he then yelled ‘friendship!’ at random, cause yeah - Drunk Luke got a tad emotional about displays of camaraderie like that. Her hair became his distraction as he blabbed about the band’s rituals and peculiar traditions in overexaggerated ways, playing and tugging on the tendrils. It flowed into a discussion about how strange cats were (Posy in particular) and how brown eyes should be appreciated more (which he agreed with) and how the music was stellar and how, if there hadn’t been history, she would love to dance with him. 

Julie said that, with a glassy-eyed smile. He almost kissed her then. 

He was too drunk to form coherent thoughts, but if he wasn’t, he’d think he was creating a lifelong friend in Julie. Which was weird, cause she wasn’t like the boys. Yet she was great in her  _ own  _ way. In her own ‘I will break vodka bottles to make a point’-way. Maybe she was just as fucking mental as they were. Might not be too far off, given they were creatives and all. 

If he weren’t drunk, he’d think they were two flirtatious best friends. Maybe that was what they were meant to be. Freaky fate shit right there. 

“And we have this game,” Luke slurred, arms crossed over each other and pressed against hers. “It’s like ‘Circle of Death’, but then, like, extreme. We get  _ really  _ into it.”

“Yeah?”

He hummed.  _ “Ooh, _ you should play with us sometime. You can hold your liquor, so-”

She snorted, head dropping on her own crossed arms. “I  _ was  _ great before you fucking started with Fireball. And you’re wasted-”

“I’m not.”

“Mh-hm.” When he shot her an offended look, she went on with a giggle. “What’s the extreme stuff?”

He shut one eye, as if that stimulated his brain better. “Uh… I mean, Reggie had to shave off one eyebrow once. We got to see Willie’s dick pics. He has a good dick.”

“Good for him,” she cooed.

“Yeah. Alex is lucky.” He perked up, brain revving up to speed. “Wait. Why not play right now?”

Julie shot a look over her shoulder, both regarding the gaggle of burly men clamping onto each other as they sang along to ‘These Boots Are Made For Walkin’’ which was pretty fucking iconic if he allowed himself to linger on it. There was a mission at hand though. Her gaze caught his again, unfocused and blurry. “Right now?”

“Not here. My place. I know it’s like-” He grabbed his phone, scowling at the brightness and trying to check the time. “-three am, but the boys are still going strong. They’re gonna be up for it.” Though his excitement grew, her apprehension kicked in. Drumming his knuckles against the wood, his lips puckered into a heavy pout. “Yes!  _ Please, please, please, _ Julie. It’s gonna be so much fun.”

And he heard what he was saying, but he had no clue if it was actually a good idea. The last time Julie was at his apartment, she moaned his name in his shoulder and then had brunch with his boys. The situation was very different, though he couldn’t exclude the idea that it  _ might  _ happen again. Did he want to have it happen again? Luke wasn’t sure. He quite liked the concept of ‘flirtatious best friends’ he came up with… huh. Fucking time.  _ Some  _ time ago. All he knew was that it was too fucking long since they played the best game ever and that Julie would be a great addition. That he didn’t want the night to end yet. That this was one of the best nights he’s had in a while. 

Playing ‘Circle Of Death - Extreme Edition!’ might be the best fucking decision of the entire year. 

Her eyes tracked his face for a beat, the frown disappearing like she hasn’t been drinking at all and wiggled her brows. “Is  _ this  _ the pick-up line?”

Luke smirked. “Do you want it to be?”

She matched his expression and leaned back. “No. But sure, let’s play the game. Kind of wanna see Willie’s dick now.”

“Hell yeah!”, he hollered, springing upright and grabbing onto her arm. “Alex! Reg! Willie!” The guys were amidst those burly guys screeching the lyrics as beers swayed in their hands. Willie noticed his yell first, chin raised in question. “Circle of death! Game night! Let’s go!”

“What?”, he yelled back.

Luke snickered as if it was the funniest thing ever, clasping his stomach with glee. “Just fucking go outside! Out-side!”

Shooting a thumbs up, Luke took it upon himself to steer him and Julie to the exit. He knew that if they set the good example, his drunk buddies would follow suit. Sheep fucking mentality. Her shoulders shook from laughter as the two stumbled outside. The city was lively, blaring music coming from all the other bars stuffed on the street. A wasted group of people staggered past them, one smoking a blunt. Oh, damn. He could definitely go for a smoke too right now. Patting his trousers, he felt the familiar shape. 

“Dude,” he drawled, digging his hand in his pocket to grab it. Somehow, his buzzing fingers kept missing it. “This is gonna be so gnarly. You’re never gonna wanna play anything else ever again.”

Julie made a silly face and prodded his cheek. “Gnarly,” she mimicked, dropping her voice as if he spoke like a neanderthal. 

He got in her bubble. “Yeah, Jules.  _ Gnarly.  _ Fucking deal with it.” Finally catching the packet, his stare didn’t leave hers as he put the joint between his lips. The cool air cleared his head a little, but he could feel himself rocking on his feet. The boys had to hurry up or else he’d flop down on the pavement from dizziness. 

Lighting it, he nodded at her. “You smoke?”

Julie watched as the tip blazed orange and plumed grey. If she was annoyed he was blowing in her face, she wasn’t showing it. Then again, she might be too hammered to care. “Sometimes,” she shrugged, aimless. “Not really. Meh.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.” Closing the little space between until only the joint separated them, she grinned. “Shotgun?”

Luke, barely cognisant of what the fuck she was doing, snorted unattractively. “That’s fucking college.”

Julie pouted, which was hot as hell, and curled her nose. “Are you going to do it or not?”

He looked at her for a beat. Heavy-lidded and resigned and  _ fucking hell, _ how long did it take to grab a jacket and join them outside? Smacking his lips with a shrug, Luke took a deep puff and leaned in. Unloading the smoke into her parted mouth, the aroma of the citrusy marijuana and her rose perfume hit his nose as they blended together. His lazy gaze flickered past her nose, fixed on the way she inhaled it. 

His nose brushed hers and murmured: “Is this you doing a pick-up line?”

Her head tilted with a smirk. “I didn’t say anything."

Music boomed behind them as the door slammed open, the three boys stumbling out the bar. Reggie was hollering about the game and Alex had his nose in Willie’s neck and Willie looked out of it and Luke hadn’t looked away. That odd feeling of warmth returned as he saw her red-painted lips quirk into a softer smile and step back. 

“Lead the way!” she cheered at trio, hooking her elbow with Reggie’s. 

As the five of them were drunk and slow, it took longer than normal to reach the apartment complex. It was nearly four am, yet all were hyped and ready for the next round of drinks. Luke knew his head wouldn’t feel a pillow until eight and that made it even  _ better.  _ This was what life was all about: doing stupid shit until their bodies gave up on them. He wouldn’t question it, he wouldn’t try and be sensible. Luke would just keep drinking and laughing. 

The group collapsed in the living room. Alex and Willie on the couch, Reggie in the recliner, Julie on the fluffy, green rug. Luke grabbed the pack of cards from the kitchen and shoved the coffee table out the way. Dropping down next to Julie, he began explaining the game as the other three scrounged the cupboards for liquor. 

The games began and Julie was a good sport, playing by the rules and coming up with good challenges. They all got to see Willie’s dick again, which he proudly showed off (Julie threw a five dollar bill at it), leaving Alex starry-eyed and even drunker than before. Reggie peed in their plastic fern, Willie had to use the stove to make “drunk haggis” and accidentally burned the pride flag pinned on top. (“I  _ told  _ you that shit was a fire hazard!”, Julie screeched as Luke put it out.) Julie licked a trail of salt from Reggie’s arm, Luke had to gargle an ABBA song with vodka and almost ended up at the bathroom puking his guts out. On a later date, he maybe should’ve to clear his head a bit, given what would happen later. 

Bottles piled as the night continued, filled with bleary eyes and hazy laughter and bodies toppling over each other when someone said something funny. A lot more shit happened, but Luke only knew flashes anymore. All he knew was that he was warm from liquor and love for his friends. 

The sun was coming up and they were still playing, all sagging and barely able to speak, when Alex yelled: “Ha! Jules, you- you-  _ you  _ forgot to drink. You threw seven and you’re, uh, Reggie’s buddy because of the- the  _ streak  _ dare. Pu-nish-ment!”

All the boys hollered, the hammered girl next to him hardly responding. She’s been leaning into his body for the past hour now, her vodka breath fanning his shoulder. The lull of her voice made him snicker. “So?”

Willie smacked his lips, still most cognisant with clear, mischievous eyes. “Make out with Luke.”

Luke snorted. “We in high school?”

“Boo!” Reg agreed, face planted on the floor. “Amateur!”

But then all of a sudden Julie straddled his waist and pressed her lips onto his. The boys were screaming again, but the only Luke could focus on was Julie arched into him with those fucking leather pants and how he was so paralysed that he  _ wasn’t doing anything. _ He just sat there and let her suck on his bottom lip. Just as he was coming to his drunk senses, she swung her leg back like it was nothing and dropped on the floor. 

“Boom.” Drowning the rest of her bottle, she slammed it down. “Fucking ama… amateurs.”

The words left his lips on autopilot. This was just his body doing the talking now. The memory of their nights had him pent-up and wired and this had been the final thing for Luke to snap. “Jules, wanna fuck right now?”

Again: severe lapse of judgement, but Black Out Luke didn’t know that yet. Especially when Julie let her eyes track his physique for a beat, like she did the first two times, like she reminded herself that he fucked her and that they were  _ good  _ at it - and then grinned in a way that drove him wild like before. 

Alex and Willie gaped at them, Reggie passed out, the drunken exchange enough to snap them out of the haze for a second. Maybe they surmounted past all comprehension that clarity came again. For Luke and Julie, it hasn’t. Didn’t matter that they came to an agreement of leaving the past in the past, of finding new footing in a tentative friendship. Drunk Land was No Man’s Land. If they needed to, they could pretend this was just an extreme dare. Whatever. Problems for  _ later. _ Luke had been aching to feel her squirm under his touch again, to feel that release when she bucked her hips and moaned his name. 

His bedroom door hadn’t shut yet when he pushed her against it, their breaths mingling in the cocktail he’s desired all night. His hands moved on their own accord, slipping her top over her neck and allowing her to do the same. 

“Get those pants off,” he groaned. 

She giggled, lazily kissing his ear. “Do it yourself.”

“They’re  _ tight.” _

Her fingers tugged his trousers down and grazed the band of his boxers. “How ba… badly do you want me?”

His palms slid to her ass, squeezing into the fabric and letting sighs roll from her tongue. In the end, they both struggled getting those stupid pants off (both deciding she’d burn them when she got home) and Luke made quick work getting back up to speed by peppering the insides of her legs with kisses. It was lazy and wet and neither were in the headspace to pleasure like they knew they were able to. Julie’s needy whines were enough to tip him over the edge though, skin rippling hot and muscles tightening around her when they fell on his bed. A strip of sunlight shone upon her. It was a drunk man’s thought, but Luke truly believed she was the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. 

Julie gripped his back, nails scratching and prodding into the skin like pure fucking bliss and making each roll of the hip faster. His face was pressed into her chest, leaving open-mouthed kisses with his eyes shut. Exhaustion was storming in the distance, but he had to finish them off. (They didn’t break their one, singular rule to then  _ not  _ orgasm. Even a wasted Luke knew that’d be shitty.) As if she felt it too, she arched into him as hard as she could, legs tangled and squeezed together as a breathy  _ please  _ tumbled out. 

This was the most desperate, sloppiest fucking sex Luke has ever had, yet it was  _ still  _ high up in the rankings. Whatever Julie possessed, she should bottle and sell it. 

That ‘please’ had been enough, both exhaling from pleasure and then - because Luke drank his weight in liquor - dropped asleep on top of her.

(She was gone when he woke up.)

**PART THREE**

A full twenty-four hours later, Luke was back in Julie’s studio like nothing had happened between them. Again. She had opened her door, both had simultaneously apologised and that they simply weren’t thinking. Which was correct, Luke thought, it just lade the whole friendship thing harder when he knew they would be better as friends with benefits. She didn’t propose it though, so he didn’t push. 

They had to record ‘Right Here, Right Now’ or else she wouldn’t have enough time to get in on the album and therefore couldn’t linger on the embarrassment of it all. Here he was, still slightly hungover and about to sing a love song with a girl he fucked. Three times now. Luke was mess. 

The game night has changed things however. Pre-sex. Julie was a perfect addition to the friend group; not meant as an aquaintance but a true fixture in their lives. She had Willie’s pragmatism and Reggie’s excitement and Alex’ intellect and Luke’s… passion? Yeesh, he had to think of something else to associate with her. The fact remained that she balanced them out perfectly and had enough spice and authenticity of her own to fuel that unstoppable fire the boys lit themselves years ago. 

Julie was a friend. A potential  _ best  _ friend. Not a ‘flirtatious’ friend, not a friend with benefits, and certainly not a girlfriend. Luke didn’t do the whole commitment thing and he wouldn’t start pursuing it because of her.

He chalked it up to musical chemistry. They had a vibe going before that only stretched out at O’Reilly’s and then got teased during the game. It was only natural they fucked - hell, it would’ve been a crime if they didn’t! That was how Luke spent the last hours mulling: trying to find proper explanations and excuses as to why he found himself on his knees kissing her legs like a man worshipping a goddess.

(Another rule: do  _ not  _ think of Julie Molina like a deity, even if she very much looked like one. Jesus fucking Christ get a grip.) 

His eyes watched her as she prepared the closet for their vocal recording, attaching equipment and wires he’d help her with if he wasn’t so distracted. They’ve already recorded the instrumentals where he lucked out with muscle memory, but he knew singing wouldn’t give him the same virtues. Each note mattered. He had to focus.

(Falling asleep on top of her like a limp asshole, her embrace not withering away. He didn’t know when she left, but he knew she was  _ there  _ for a few hours. Could feel her against him. When he woke up around four in the afternoon and went into the bathroom and saw the scratch marks on his back, his throat dried up. The lines she created were pounding as he looked at her now. He wanted to cross the line again.  _ Jesus fucking Christ get a grip!) _

The grip he’d been mustering finally came. His mind gladly began to volunteer other things to think about. Like Julie’s talent in  _ music,  _ how her vibrato was one of a kind, how nice she was, her excellent taste in furniture, the fact that she saved a stray cat. Julie’s body held a soul that was just as important. The thought repeated itself. Soul over body, soul over body, soul over body, … and was then reminded of the ‘vibe’. How that vibe hadn’t been sexual when he crooned the lyrics into the mic. It had felt… whole. He couldn’t describe it. 

Maybe it was the vibe he’d been seeking: how she’d inevitably become a best friend. 

Luke smiled and reached forward, helping her plug in the final things in silence. Julie and him were adults. This was just (another) small bump in the road to beautiful friendship.

“Okay,” she mumbled, wiping her hands on the sides of her joggers. “Ready?”

He nodded and stuffed himself in the insulated space, Julie going in after him and closing the door. One small, yellow bulb illuminated them. Their eyes met, Luke biting his lip to keep himself from snickering. 

A smile trembled on her own. “Don’t make the joke.”

“Jules, come on-”

“No.”

“Please.”

She paused. “Three, two, one, go.”

His shit-eating grin was dirtier than the musty closet. “So, seven minutes in heaven, huh?”

Her eyes shone with amusement. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, satisfied, and put the thick headphones on. “Let’s go.”

Julie pressed play on her laptop and the music began to play in his ears, his familiar strumming pulling a shyer smile out of him. This was different. The boys all recorded their vocals separately. They didn’t stand in a six by five space sharing a single mic and feeling the hairs on each other’s arms. Luke only had to reach out and grab her hand. He didn't - cause they were friends - and instead focused on his cue.

Above all the bullshit, he respected her as an artist. He had to get this right. Mustering the image of a hypothetical lover to immerse himself in the story, Luke sang. His mind shaped a fantasy behind his eyes of his body floating across the galaxy, rushing past stars and supernovas, the noise oddly like that of LA traffic, as he easily found the harmony with Julie. He saw the moon and the sun and Venus and Mars, revolved around Saturn and the deep blue of Neptune. He was one with the bend of the universe, his body swerving and tolling and orbiting until it all of a sudden came to a screeching halt. His breath hitched at the bridge. 

Julie linked her fingers with his.

They kept singing. A melancholic ache accompanied the lyrics now. It felt sardonic, though he didn’t know why. Maybe it was the guilt that ate him alive, of always fucking things over. Another symbol of healing, once more coming from Julie’s side. 

The music faded out along the voices. Luke opened his eyes, staring straight into her troubled ones. It felt like disappointing Willie at his tournament, but worse. It felt so much fucking worse. Their hands haven’t let go.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he whispered after a beat. 

Her fingers tightened, shaking her head. “You already said that. We already-”

“I know,” he cut in. Frustration and his past selfish needs blurred together in a mess of words. “I mean it. I- I don’t want you to think I had a plan or something. I  _ do  _ wanna be friends.”

That smile he didn’t deserve stayed on. She still hadn’t let go. “I was as much in the wrong as you were. We were just being stupid - it’s fine. And I want friendship too.” Her nose scrunched, brief levity. “Like at the bar.”

He snorted. “You remember enough to say that?”

An unimpressed brow quirked. “Do  _ you  _ remember shotgunning me?”

_ “What?”,  _ he choked out. He did  _ what?  _ He didn’t even remember smoking in the first place. 

“Exactly.” Her fingers untangled from his and put her headphones back on. “I wanna go again.”

They recorded three more times, each time crisper and small nuances that added colour to her story. By the final recording, he actually enjoyed himself, bobbing his head to the instrumentals and almost making her laugh as she sang her verses. When they listened to it after, they did hear the grin in her voice. Julie liked it, found it fitting. He was just happy she could add another killer track on her EP and - who knows - maybe some of her fans would find his band and start listening too. Luke didn’t do it to benefit his own pocket, but if it  _ accidentally  _ did, then he wasn’t going to complain about it. He told her that too. The tease got him a snort and a swat against his arm and if this was what friendship with Julie was like, then he’d embrace it fully.

And if that meant less sex in his life in general, then he’d just start jogging more to blow off steam. 

When her EP came out two days, he was one of the first to listen to it and share it on his Twitter. It was good. It was so fucking good and he was so fucking proud. Artist to artist, he found it really showed an evolution from her previous works. It was mature and hard and vulnerable and something he’d also listen to. Julie’s music was _ cool.  _ Though the industry was ruthless and he normally wouldn’t just admit that, Julie deserved the recognition just as much. Maybe their music could be played in the supermarket together  _ (his _ first though, the band  _ did  _ exist longer than Julie’s career). But man, ‘Right Here, Right Now’ hit  _ different  _ on his runs. His feet floated instead of sunk in the sand on a particularly nice Sunday, propelled forward by the belt in Julie’s voice and the heavy strumming of his guitar. The boys were forgiving after the EP came out. Alex hadn’t fully let go of his grudge, but even he was vibing with the song, its soft tunes often drifting into his bedroom during lazy mornings from the stereo. Julie didn’t have to be there for her to be there. He kind of liked that. 

***

**luke patterson** **  
** **@lukepatterson  
** guys. guys. guys guys guys guys guys this may or may not change your life 🤯 [link to Julie’s EP]   
_ [liked and retweeted by @thejuliemolina @merceralexx @reggie_peters] _

**L.A. Records** **  
** **@la_records**   
damn @thejuliemolina what juice have you been drinking?! ep 🔥🔥🔥 #arcana

**india lee** **  
** **@juliessmolinass  
** we have been fed tonight, ladies. some good fucking food ugh “your sweet nothing” OWNS me #arcana

**sunset curve owns me** **  
** **@lukeysbeanies001  
** LUKE??? FEATURED ON @thejuliemolina HER NEW EP??? THEY?? COLLIDED??? WHAT??? #arcana 

**doing hot princess shit** **  
****@oliviathephantom  
**uh. chemistry. did you hear. her. grin. i. cannot. deal. #righthererightnow omg what if easier was abt her 😳

**chasing not walking** **  
** **@chase_levy**   
brb gonna listen to julie’s fucking belt for 4h straight wtf girl @thejuliemolina #arcana #righthererightnow

***

Friendship with Julie was, as expected, really nice. Quite easy too. It wasn’t hard to become a friend, but he quickly realised it took some time for him to feel like he actually earned being one. If he thought he has a “head first, think later” kinda guy, then he hadn’t properly met Julie Molina. The second she decided Luke was going to be her friend, she meant it. It was exhilarating to say the least, to become close to a new person who knew nothing about him. Well - she knew a lot. More than most people. But she also didn’t. It took them two weeks for her to find out his favourite colour was red and hers was blue. Stupid shit like that made him run a little faster on his morning jogs. 

The conversations were mostly over dm though (he  _ still  _ didn’t have her number), as the band was going into overdrive working on the album. Luke had been cranking out so much new material with the different angle they were taking the band in and the boys almost couldn’t keep up with it. Luke was so inspired, that they probably had to cut down on some songs. Pick and choose the best. That never happened before and each of them was ecstatic. The apartment was empty most of the time, every possible second spent at Dave’s. They even started buying that old douche coffee since they had to wake him up - it was  _ that  _ early. 

The grump didn’t mind though. “More time to bash on the green ones,” he huffed, nodding at the young surfers. “Fuck those assholes.”

Their previous worries of not getting signed was still there. It lingered. It was felt whenever Alew got frustrated on certain parts or Reggie decided to shut down and just do his own shit. It was Willie then, of all people, to come over (lathered in paint and dust) and calm the group down. If it wasn’t for Alex’ zen boyfriend, Luke would’ve smashed his guitar in a tantrum by now. Those moments were luckily few and far in between, more often than not an gentle buzz between the guys as they found the harmonies and everything clicked into place. That “click” couldn’t be described as anything else. It was that quiet thrill of knowing something was right, the same as that “this is it” feeling he always got onstage. Luke halted at the thought.  _ Or, _ he smirked, it could be seen as an orgasm. Each song that clicked a new orgasm. What did the French call it? A “little death”? Wasn’t performing leaving your all on the stage (your soul, your sweat and bones and blood and legacy), only to be reincarnated to continue on with your set? Dying and reviving over and over again. He didn’t tell the boys about his comparison - Alex would literally scalp him in his sleep - but he kept it in his songbook for future reference.

That book was quickly filling up with these new flares of geniality. And if he looked through them late at night, he knew some of it came from his talks with Julie. For a moment, he wondered who Bowie used to talk to. 

If he somehow wasn’t rehearsing and recording with the band, he found himself at Magnolia Mocha entertaining his coffee addiction and pester Julie. Whenever there was a duller moment, he’d bounce ideas back and forth or ask her what she thought of something. A song, a TV show they both watched, a story from his own barista times. Every time Olivia walked around the corner, he purposefully let his hands fall over the counter and look her straight in the eye. 

Julie always shooed his hands to the other side. “Why do you have to egg her on?”

“C’mon, Jules,” he grinned, “it’s fun!”

She puffed. “You have the humour of a thirteen year old boy - wait, no. Carlos was cooler back then.”

“Cute.” The biting quip got him a grin as she wiped her side for coffee grounds. “Your brother, right?”

Julie took her phone from her back pocket and tapped her nail against the young guy on her homescreen. He looked like her, with a sharper jaw and crooked smile and short hair. Her father, he presumed, stood in the middle, arms wrapped around Carlos and her. Before he could ask where her mother was, she said: “Yeah, he’s a freshman in college. Chemistry.”

Luke whistled as she pocketed her phone. “Damn. So,  _ he’s  _ the smart one.”

“I can’t even rebut that,” she sighed. “Do you have siblings?”

His sardonic grimace made her pause. “Nope.” Wiggling his brows, he added without thinking: “Got to disappoint my folks all on my own.”

“What?” Her questioning frown got interrupted by another customer walking in and rattling a convoluted order. He could feel her hot stare though. The loud whirring of the machines and the hum of music couldn’t keep the feel of her eyes away. 

They haven’t talked about the 'deep' stuff and he, frankly, didn’t want to. His boys and Willie knew of his history. He’d prefer to keep the circle as small as possible. Sure, Julie and him were close and she’d inevitably find out, but he didn’t want to sit down and  _ explain  _ it to her. She’d just… catch on, eventually. Shreds of conversations with Alex and Reg and the fact that she would never see his parents, ever, would be enough. It hurt to think about. He was over it, somewhat, kind of. But it hurt. Luke was still just twenty-three; it wasn’t too long ago when his parents decided to discard him alongside the trashbags. Having to scratch his heart out of his barely mended chest just so she understood seemed unnecessary.

Again, he’d rather keep running and not seek out a therapist. Gross. 

He asked her that too, when the customer paid and she was clearly still thinking about it. 

“Wanna go on a run sometime?”

She chuckled, incredulous. “You  _ run?”  _

“Stage stamina,” he lied, though it definitely helped. 

Her smile widened, French braid dancing on her shoulder when she did. “Okay. Where? We don’t really live in the same area.”

“I go to the beach a lot. We can meet up in Venice at five am.”

Her breath stuttered, grabbing onto the counter. “Five?! You voluntarily wake up at five?”

He laughed. “I’m an early bird! And you already said yes!” His feet dropped on the floor, dumping his songbook in his backpack. “No take backs! See you-” His fingers flicked her chin, her jaw falling slack when he did with disgust. “-tomorrow at  _ five, _ Jules.”

“I hate you!”, she yelled after his retreating back. 

“Nah!”, he exclaimed back, bell jingling as he opened the door and tapped the frame with a jump. “You love me!”

A disgruntled Julie found him a bit after five. He was watching the surfers, a voice eerily like Dave’s making commentary in his head, when she appeared at his side. She was in maroon leggings, sports bra and ugly scowl. A part of him wanted to point out she didn't have to come, that she didn't sign a contract, but the biggest part of him was just happy she was here. A running buddy was never something he thought of wanting (Reggie had asthma, Alex went to the gym with Willie), but he also never thought he’d become friends with his three night stand. Stranger things had happened. 

She pouted when she noted that she was, indeed, shorter than him. “You’re going to be faster. What’s the point if I’ll just be behind you the whole time?”

“Love the attitude,” he retorted. “I won’t go as fast then.”

The girl squinted, suspicious, with her arms crossed. “What’s your usual?”

“I-” He blanked. “Well, I kinda work with bpm.” It made her quirk a smile and nod. “A bpm of 165.”

Julie sighed. “God… then get ready for a  _ light  _ jog.”

Luke spread his arms in front of him with a smirk. “Lead the way.”

With everything in his life changing, this changed too. The awakening pink sky and Julie became a regular occurence three times a week. They alternated between the beach and the sprawling cityscape of LA, often just starting their run and seeing where they ended up. For weeks, he had to slow down his tempo so she could keep up, but she quickly found a steady rhythm that left him heaving in the end as well.

Five in the morning became sweeter than ever. 

It was weird not listening to music. Or talking, really. Conversation usually stopped short when someone felt a sting in their side and had to focus on breathing. Weird, but nice. He didn’t realise how lonely it actually was to run alone for hours straight. Music distracted that ache, but now he had Julie’s even puffs to focus on, her sneakers pounding the asphalt next to his. 

One random May morning, they decided to hike in Runyon Canyon Park. They got up at three and met up at the start of the trail by four. It was still dark, the sky a muddy bluish-grey and chilly. Surprisingly, Julie was there before him. Loaded with a big, coffee-filled thermos (“I copped it from Magnolia,” she whispered like it was a scandal) and the idea to share AirPods for the long trek up when neither felt like speaking much, his morning was already perfect before it started.

With the soothing voice of Gregory Porter, Luke and Julie saw the sunrise. How the colours blended from rich oranges and purples and pinks to a light blue, high up from their lookout point. His heart lurched at the sight. He teared up. There they stood, amidst the quietude of nature and the beloved city below, watching it come alive. How next to him, Julie’s eyes were closed, a gentle smile playing on her lips as she swayed to the beat of ‘Concorde’. How he was once more struck that she, unlike most people, looked better in the light. 

It was then that he realised Julie was his best friend. Alex and Reggie were his brothers. But Julie? Who else would he do this with? There was only her that would casually start dancing in the canyon, ignoring the beauty of the morning to have a moment to herself. He brought his gaze back to the city with a grin, stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

_ Slicing through the stratosphere  
_ _ Twice the speed of sound  
_ _ My life is moving under me  
_ _ Before I touch the ground _

He hummed along, grabbing the thermos from the grass to take a sip. The sun began to heat up his skin, Luke shrugging off his pullover. Trumpets rose as Gregory’s bass voice glided across the notes. Julie started dancing harder. Luke bobbed his head, fingers tapping against his thigh. This… this right here. Damn. Life could be so fucking good sometimes. When he thought the band would soar, he thought it would be just that: the band. Which was happening too, but he didn’t think  _ he’d  _ be here right now. Luke didn’t think a person was capable to feel like this. Luke and Passion were one and the same, breathed the same temperamental fire into life. And yet.

Here he was. Here he fucking was. Watching the sun shine upon her again, but better this time. So much fucking better. Watching the city he loved so much awaken, like all those other time, but  _ better.  _

He shouted it. “Slicing through the stratosphere!”

Julie laughed and jumped like she was at a concert from his exhilarating yell. He jumped with her, cause why not, and felt his face aching from the bright beam stuck on his cheeks. 

Yelling the lyrics back at him, her voice was rough from not speaking, which made it even greater. “And now, ten thousand feet up in the air!”

His entire body was shaking from the orchestral magnificence blasting in his ear. “I can't wait to get there!”

She snatched his arms, eyes locked with the Passion he just felt licking in his chest, as they mimicked Gregory’s growl for the final words. “Drop down…”

They fell onto the grass in a fit of laughter. Julie’s face was glowing from joy and the golden rays of sun. Both were drenched from the hours of hiking and trying to watch their breath from screaming their lungs out, but it didn’t matter.

“I get it now,” she heaved. “The running. The hiking.”

He puffed, incredulous, and dropped his head on the soft grass. “Yeah?”

“Makes me happy.” She paused. “I guess Elle Woods was right.”

A chuckle left his lips, still in disbelief this is what she was thinking about when he felt like he figured out how the universe was created. From this fucking feeling bursting inside of him. “Are you talking about ‘Legally Blonde’ on the best fucking morning of my life?”

Her head collapsed next to his, still smiling. “I’m saying thank you for making endorphins cool.”

The aching smile grew, eyes tracing her face looking for the joke but finding none. His voice quieted. “You’re welcome.”

‘But Beautiful’ began to croon through his AirPod as she nodded and looked back at the clear sky above. He didn’t keep staring, tilting his head to gaze at the same sky until his eyes blurred and felt an overwhelming sense of ease dawn upon him. Kind of like the start of a nap. For a while, there was only the music. 

He eventually put the AirPod on his chest. “The album’s coming together.”

“Yeah?”

His arms stretched out over his head, loosening the muscles from the previous morning cold. With the new warmth, he could lay here for hours. “Yeah, it’s- I’ve told you we’re taking it in a new direction and it’s  _ working.  _ We really think this is gonna get us a label.”

“What will you do if it doesn’t?”

One eye cracked open, a seed of annoyance dropping in his stomach. “Why would you say that?”

“I’m not trying to jinx it,” her gentle voice said. It reminded him of how she handled petulant customers. “Just… I’m in this shitshow of an industry too, you know. I’m not getting my hopes up that ‘Arcana’ will get me somewhere.” 

The annoyance deepened and he scowled. What a shit answer was that? “Why not?”

“It’s self-preservation,” Julie shrugged. “It’s not personal.”

Now she was just spouting bullshit. “It _is,”_ Luke spit. He didn’t mean to get wired up about this, but wasn’t Julie just as obsessed with music as he was? “It’s _your_ body of work. Probably the most personal thing out there.”

She smiled, catching his eye. Her tone slipped to something more genuine, a bit more raw. “I know. But I also can’t fall so low each time I get another rejection email. You know the feeling. It fucking sucks. I’d rather keep my expectations as low as possible and… wait. I guess. I don’t know. I’m twenty-three-” She laughed, shaking her head. “-I don’t know a lot, I think.”

That festering pit stopped and withered at her confession. Luke always thought he knew everything. And what he didn’t know, he’d fake that he did. Maybe that was his way of protecting himself: leaning on the knowledge he had and pretended to have as to predict and control a situation. The sudden realisation made him shift uncomfortably. He didn’t know what to do with it, which was kind of ironic. With the way Julie behaved when they met, he presumed they were similar that way - saying the right words and smiling at the right time and waiting to attack. It sounded fucking ominous, but he reckoned it held some truth. In his impulsiveness, there was calculation. He then made the false calculation that Julie was, just like him, an ace in flirting. And she was, but maybe not in the way he was. Maybe she just got lucky he was so responsive to her. 

Julie believed she didn’t know a lot. Luke maybe didn’t either. The urge to jog tingled his muscles, but instead pushed it down with a coherent thought to answer her. 

“‘Arcana’ is really good though,” he carefully said, hoping she heard how every syllable was drenched in earnesty. “It deserves to be heard and seen. It deserves to have you repped by a label.”

She flicked his hand with a sigh. “Luke, is it bad if I say I don’t want to talk about it? This is also  _ my  _ best fucking morning ever.”

He grinned. “Sure. I get it. Fuck music.”

She whooped at his statement, throwing her legs up. “Fuck music!”

“Fuck music!”, he screamed.

“Fuck! Music!”

They kept screaming the ridiculous words until another hiker passed. After, he hoisted her from the ground and walked the last few miles back down. When he came back to the apartment by noon with a silly grin on his face, Alex didn’t say anything. Instead, Luke put on more Gregory Porter, made an omelette, thought about the fact they both experienced that extraordinary feeling of The Perfect Morning, and realised that in between the dozens of “fuck music”-s, he truly meant one of them. 

Because music didn’t trump the hike he went on with Julie. What a friend to earn. 

That May morning was the last time he felt truly serene around Julie. It was no one’s fault it changed afterwards, but everything kind of just spiralled into a whole lot of bullshit that yeah,  _ was his fault.  _ He honestly should’ve seen it coming. 

It started a week later when he dropped by Magnolia Mocha for his coffee and a chat. She smiled at him over the shoulder of a customer as he sat down on his regular stool at the counter. The plan was to get her thought about a lyric he’d been toying with, down his espresso, and get his ass to Dave. Three simple steps, of which two were already in motion. Julie went up to him after the customer with that signature smile of hers and asked if he wanted an espresso. 

“Thanks,” he said when she slid the blue cup in front of him, her elbows naturally leaning into the tabletop at the sight of his opened songbook. His predictability should be worrisome, but he liked it. It meant he and Julie had a routine, a running tempo outside of their tennis shoes. “So, I have this killer lyric that I wanted to go by you, because I think I’m the only one that gets it-”

“As usual.”

“-love the vibe, Jules. Anyway, it goes like-”

The bell jingled, Julie looked up and stiffened in a snap. The words froze on his tongue, Luke whirling in his chair to see what caught her so off guard. It was just some tall dude. He frowned; she got stressed out by a beanstalk? 

Her voice broke through again, high-pitched and strained. “Nick! Hi!”

Oh. Nick. The dude that broke up with her because of music. Aka: the absolute idiot. This time with his identity in mind, Luke did another once-over. Floppy blonde hair, highlighted by the California sun. Blue eyes, freckled skin, no ink, a stiff, awkward walk. Harmless, though not what he expected Julie’s ex to look like. He didn’t know what he  _ did  _ expect, but it definitely wasn’t the human embodiment of a golden retriever. Yeesh, his gut reaction to this guy was such severe animosity Luke frowned at his own thoughts. He couldn’t help it though. Just look at him!

“Hey, Julie,” Nick greeted. “Can I get, uh, latte? My regular.”

Her lips pressed down. “I don’t know what your regular is.”

A loaded pause. “With soy milk.”

“Thanks.”

Luke’s hand hovered above his cup, unsure whether to remove his stare and drink or keep a close eye on the dude. What the hell did he do to make Julie this uncomfortable a year and a half after the break-up? The other hand gripped the chain on his jeans. The need for caffeine has vanished. 

Nick looked from the counter to the back of her head as she made the drink. “How are you?”

“Good,” she said, curt. “You?”

“I heard ‘Arcana’.”

She turned to face him, lips still pressed with irritation. “Okay?”

He sighed, stuffing his hands in his bomber jacket. Why the fuck did he wear a jacket? It was a May afternoon - the sweltering heat was enough to kill someone. “You recorded ‘Right Here, Right Now’.”

Pride swelled in his chest for a beat. Hell yeah, she did - with _ him.  _ The song was killer and the most streamed one on her EP. It was the literal synthesis of the story she crafted for the work and they made it happen. Julie’s genius words got her a boost  _ without  _ this dude. 

“I did. Don’t worry, it doesn’t hold the same meaning anymore.” Julie slammed the lid on the to-go cup with a snarl. That soothing voice she usually put on was devoid. “It’s just a pretty song now.”

He didn’t reach for the cup, frowning, and lowered his voice. “It  _ does  _ hold meaning though. You duetted it.”

“Why do you care?” she snapped. 

“Because! It’s- I  _ don’t. _ I’m just surprised.”

“It’s not your song. It was never your song.” Her words got caught in her throat from lingering fury, fist clenched onto the bartop. “You just fed me an empty lie when you were drunk on the phone and I believed it. You don’t get to come in here and be ‘surprised’.”

“Julie-” 

“Hey, Jules,” Luke smiled brightly, pressing down on the nickname, “are you almost on your break?” Though he’d never pride himself on being a good actor as he was horrible at lying, in that moment he pretended Nick was nothing but air. Julie needed an out. Luke was her out. 

She understood, a faint smile pulling on her lips. “I am, actually. That’s four dollars, Nick.”

The blonde and Luke stared at each other, one baffled and the other with nonchalance. What was he gonna do? Question her friendships? If this wasn’t Julie’s place of work, he would’ve kicked the guy out by now. He hated seeing her so vexed, like a cat with its hairs up and ready to attack. What she needed was a breather and maybe a hug and maybe-

No. Not more than that. He shut his book with a resolute slam. 

Nick put two and two together. “You’re… the guy.”

It happened naturally: the smile morphing into a cocky smirk he knew would raise alarm bells. It was the kind daughters shielded the eyes of their mother’s from. “Yeah. I’m Luke.”

Julie rolled her eyes and ducked beneath the bartop, snatching her bag as she went. “Not even entertaining this. Luke, let’s go.”

Cheerily saluting at the stunned blonde, he grabbed onto Julie’s hand for good measure and allowed her to drag them out the coffee shop. Steam was pouring from her ears and he’d try to console her if he wasn’t feeling like a smug douche for placing doubt in that guy’s head. He deserved it though. Who did he think he was? Bombarding her at work like that when he knew she couldn’t deny her services? The idea that Nick and Julie were a serious couple once was unimaginable. She was so incredible and he, from that one interaction, was decidedly not. Julie deserved so much better, so much more, so much-

She let go of his hand with a huff when the banner was out of sight. The heat beat down on their faces, instantly flushing his cheeks and making sweat dribble on her forehead. “I don’t need you to do that.”

Luke frowned. “I know. You just seemed really stressed. Like, ‘I’m going to scream if you say one more thing’-stressed.”

Her face fell, the embers of her anger dwindling and then, all of sudden, wrapping her arms around his waist. Luke stilled for a moment. They haven’t hugged. Not like this, at least. Not on a busy sidewalk for comfort. His arms followed hers a beat later, ignoring the temperature and enveloping his arms around her head. She disappeared between his muscle tee. His heart held a gentle rhythm, though each shaking breath she took made it skip like a syncopated beat in a song. His nose pressed in her nose, a sense of relief letting his body relax and sigh, as if it had been anticipating this.

After their drunken mistake, he only had sex one more time before he became too pre-occupied with the band and had the long jogs to keep him from feeling antsy. He still wanted it, often feeling dull aches of need at night, but he never thought he’d get the same type of relief when hugging Julie. It wasn’t  _ exactly  _ the same, but holding her so close had that cathartic effect he’d been seeking. Maybe Luke was touch-starved. 

God, why was he overanalysing a fucking hug. It just felt amazing. Whatever!

“I hate how he still gets under my skin sometimes,” she mumbled against the fabric, him pulling back slightly to hear her better. Her eyes were averted to the asphalt, frowning. “Like I’m over him. I am. I haven’t even thought about him in weeks. I’ve been-” Her words were drowned by an audible gulp. Tentatively, because they haven’t been in this situation before, his fingers slid to her shoulder to gently rub the tension away. Julie looked up, troubled, rolling her lips to continue. This was kind of new land for the both of them, Luke knew, unsure how to tread this part of friendship. But he knew a shoulder rub calmed Reggie down, so it couldn’t hurt to try with Julie. 

It did the trick, her taking a deep breathe and locking the green with the brown. “I’ve been really content being single,” she put, frank. “And sometimes I hate how much I feel. I hate feeling like this. Sometimes I wish I just wouldn’t feel anything at all.” 

A shiver went down his spine, now both of his hands pressed on her shoulders and thumbs caressing the skin of her neck. Her heartbroken whispers left him gutted. How could she feel like this, think this, when she might be the best person he’s ever met? It was a bold statement, but he knew it wasn’t too far from the truth. 

“Jules, you-” His breath choked. Thoughts he shouldn’t voice flashed behind his eyes, ones that were too out there, too bizarre, too  _ intimate, _ and willed himself to find ones that were just as genuine but less scary. “You’re amazing. You’re fucking amazing, you know that? And that’s because you care. You care a lot. You remember I like espresso-”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not hard.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he laughed, making her crack a smile too. Fingers got caught in a few curls. “You care. I literally know shit about you since all we do is run-”

A giggle came and his nose scrunched at the sound. That surging feeling of affection pushed at his throat to spout more, Luke biting his lip to keep it at the bay. “But, you- uh- please don’t feel bad for feeling. If you didn’t feel, we wouldn’t be friends. That would be shitty, right?”

Her reply was another hug, this time with her arms slung around his neck and her cheek burrowed in his shoulder. He’d hold her for as long and tight as she wanted (though the weather really wasn’t the time for it; damn, he was sweating hard) and was struck with the reluctance to let go. He liked this. He liked feeling his feet sway, have her move with him, liked being that comfort for her right now. If it wasn’t for him, she would’ve foud it in Flynn a few hours later, but… 

It had to be him. He wanted it to be him. 

“Fuck that guy,” he whispered. 

He felt her grin. “I did.”

“Julie-”

“It was an open goal,” she laughed, shifting to see his face again. Her hair brushed his cheeks when she did and he let the peculiar thought rush through him that, even with her braid frizzy from the heat, she looked pretty. 

He peered at her. “You’re a bitch, you know that?”

“Yeah… but you’re right.” Her grin mellowed, dropping her hands from his neck. Her cheekbones shone with moisture, something she tried to hide, but his shirt held the evidence. Her chin tilted up, not unlike her Lizzo performance. “Fuck him. I’m Julie fucking Molina.”

“You are.”

“I can get anyone.”

He pointed at his dick. “Exhibit A.”

“Oh my God,” she gawked, eyes slamming shut. 

“It was an open goal,” he teased. She swatted his arm and he allowed himself to stumble back, as if she actually got him good with that light punch. It worked though. The smile that came after was worth it. His breath stuttered at the sight, helplessly searching for a steady cadence. The sun must be hitting him hard, the guitarist flushed and dazed. “H-hey, why don’t you just ditch work and come jam with me and the boys? It’s gonna be fun.”

Her smile tugged downwards, apologetic. “I can’t. I still have a few hours.”

Luke groaned, sinking to her level so that she couldn’t deny the puppy eyes he put up. Alex once said it could’ve made Margaret Thatcher soften had they ever met. “Make Olivia cover for you,” he pouted.  _ “Please, _ Jules. Do you really wanna go back to serving coffee after the shit you just went through?”

She pushed his chin away, yet he came right back with even bigger eyes and she sighed. “If I say yes, will you stop looking at me like that?”

“It’s good, huh?” Thud, thud, stutter, thud. “Works like a charm.”

The quip unfazed her. “It’s terrifying.”

His entire body twitched to hug her again, maybe to hide the stupid face he was making, but opted instead to sling his arm around her and steer her towards the subway. “Nah, you dig it.” When she didn’t rebut, his fingers gripped her shoulder a little tighter.

The jam session did help her. Thought the guys’ initial confusion at seeing Julie appear through the sliding doors brought some awkwardness, they’ve all become friends over the past two months and were more than happy to let her riff with them for a bit. Especially when she bemoaned her moment in the coffee shop and Reggie began ranting about the psychology book he’d been reading, which ended when Alex crashed his cymbal and asked for the psychobabble to be postponed. 

But it helped. She listened to bits they’ve been working on and used the old keyboard catching dust in the corner (once property of Dave’s late wife) to add to their sound. It was such a kick of adrenaline each time she joined their voices, her unique timbre blending effortlessly. The guys were enjoying themselves too, Reggie and Julie going off the beaten path together to find a newer, jazzy vibe and then flowing back to the familiar rock. Luke even found Dave peeking through the windows once, fixed on Julie with slight wonder. He’d never seen the man so perplexed. As they ventured to more experimental beats from Alex, Luke remembered why he came to the coffee shop in the first place. He unearthed his songbook and got her to look at some of the lyrics he wrote last night. The song would be a hit and had to be on the album, that he was sure of, it just hadn’t been clicking. Like putting up a frame and noticing it was slightly crooked. 

Then Julie sang the lyrics aloud and all the guys instantly knew. Julie had to be on the track. That was also something he should’ve seen coming. A song for a song, right? The girl was enthusiastic when Luke exclaimed the idea, all the boys heavily nodding and leaving her to ask if they were just trying to cheer her up. 

“Jules,” Luke sputtered, “we’re  _ using  _ you. Get your butt to the mic right now.”

If they felt that sensation of righteousness when Julie casually sang the lyrics from his book, they weren’t ready for the explosion that would come when she somewhat memorised them and brought colour to the song with her interpretation. Luke was envious. Julie didn’t even have to try, so easily slipping into the rock aesthetic like she was born to do so. Gravelly, lower, rawer, as if she knew it would complement the growl he inevitably would add.

(That night, he’d realise that she probably listened to their music more than once. Not just at Raven’s Nest or occasionally. She  _ knew  _ what the band wanted and adapted it her capabilities without a hitch. He never thought to wonder if she was a fan or not - who knew, maybe she was one of their first fans when they just started getting traction. Or maybe she just had an incredibly keen ear. Probably the latter.) 

Luke joined her at the mic for the chorus, letting his body move with the impact of Alex’ drums. 

_ I think I better go before I try something I might regret  
_ _ I might regret _

She was feeling it too, urging him to come even closer when she kept the stand near her face. Julie and him were performers, something that wouldn’t switch off even in rehearsal. 

_ I think I better go before I try something I might regret  
_ _ I might regret _

It went into the second verse, her claiming the vocals again and killing those high notes the boys could only dream of. 

_ Black hearted angels sunk me  
_ _ With kisses on my mouth  
_ _ There's poison in this water  
_ _ The words are falling out _

He felt it again as he looked at her. With her eyes closed and her messy braid and her Magnolia Mocha shirt and her trampled, doodled sneakers and lips twisting to utter the words he put on paper. Julie was a star. The way his rushing thoughts from before suddenly pieced together such a simple conclusion shocked him. But she wasn’t a star in the sense that she was faraway and unattainable, she was right here. He only had to take a few steps to nudge her foot. She was just blatantly, unapologetically, in your face  _ here.  _ And that, to Luke, was really fucking attractive. 

The song ended and everyone was breathlessly enthralled to keep working on it. Julie didn’t even have to be convinced again nor did she teasingly ask for that percentage. He was reminded of one of their first conversations, during that dreary morning in her kitchen when she bluntly told him she didn't have time for guys like him, that music came first. He got it now. What did it matter if he found her attractive - if he couldn’t stop those annoying thoughts - when they could make great music instead? Maybe she’s always known that if they were to ever collab, that something stupid as sex couldn’t stunt the way to greatness. Maybe it was part of the self-preservation she talked about it. Maybe she was even  _ more  _ calculating than he was. He truly didn’t know anything. 

The sun was setting when rehearsal ended. Willie came by and egged the boys on for a quick surf. He’d been in his studio all day and needed to stretch his muscles. Luke too, if he was being honest, fingers cramping and neck aching, but he didn’t want to leave Julie alone. He invited her. In the end, the three of them rushed down to the beach as the two of them continued cleaning the space. Though Dave hardly came in here, the band didn’t wanna jinx his generosity by leaving it dirty. 

Speaking of, the man’s wrinkly face popped in again, cautious. “Luke.”

Julie and him looked up at his voice, a gentle smile falling onto his lips as he stepped forward. “Hey, Dave. What’s up?”

The man came inside. His hands were nervously rubbing his sun bleached jeans, eyes flitting between the guitarist and her. “Uh…” He decided on something and stuck his hand out. “I’m Dave. I own the place.”

Julie shook it. “Hi, I’m Julie, a friend of the band.”

His expression sunk, much to both their surprise. He’s never seen Dave look so lost and downtrodden. Did it have something to do with the keyboard. They didn’t ask permission to use it, but it also just laid there doing nothing. Luke presumed he’d be glad it got some fingers dancing across the keys again. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean to be, ah, rude. I- you look  _ so much  _ like someone I used to know.”

She stilled, their joint hands freezing in place. Luke frowned. Clearly he was out of the loop with something. He began bouncing on his heels from the palpable energy between the old man and Julie, their eyes locked like they recognised each other from a past life.

Then Dave spoke. “You don’t know Rose by any chance?”

Her face crumpled and Luke panicked. He’s never seen her like this. Resigned, tired, melancholic - everything all at once. “I do,” she murmured, dropping his hand. Her face grew ten years older, her shiny eyes holding a weary apology. “She’s my mother.”

The man’s jaw fell slack. “You… I didn’t know Rose had a daughter. Last time I saw her was… I don’t know, 1999? With her Petals.”

Julie laughed, a tear trickling down her cheek but doing nothing to wipe it away. Dread began to coil in Luke’s stomach. This was no normal reaction for someone to get when talking about their mother. Her tone was lighter again. “She got me a year later. How do you- did you know her well?”

“She worked at Josephine’s music store. My wife, she- well, she died, but-”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. But she worked there. Played on that same keyboard too when there weren’t many customers. I saw you playing and I thought-” He laughed, brushing his beard with fondness. “-I thought I was forty again. Blast from the past, yeah? You look…” His eyes slowly traced her features in disbelief. Julie’s face contorted, her lower lip trembling as she anticipated his words. “You look  _ so much _ like her.”

She burst into tears. Luke rushed forward and roughly pulled her into a tight embrace before his heart ripped open. He couldn’t bear seeing her hurt. His alarmed gaze found Dave’s, the man mortified by his actions and taking a step back. He grumbled something about the ocean and left the pair. Julie truly couldn’t catch a break today. 

“I’m sorry,” she choked, gripping his shirt and removing herself. Her movements were frenzied, unable to look him in the eye. “I’m normally not this emotional.”

“It’s okay!” He soothed, that panic peaking to a state of nausea because he had no clue how to deal with this. The desperation to  _ be, _ however, was bigger than his ego. “It’s- Jules, what’s going on?”

That frantic energy of hers slowly found direction, her body moving on its own accord to one of the ratty recliners and collapsing in front of it. Not on it, like he expected. Her head leaned against the leather. If the situation wasn’t so grave, he’d make a joke that the rug hasn’t been vacuumed  _ since  _ 1999, but that kind of seemed cruel at the moment. Luke wasn’t sure whether she wanted him to sit next to her or not, so he remained frozen on the spot. 

A frustrated puff left her lips, fingers rubbing her cheeks and still not meeting his stare. Her brown eyes were piercing, looking into a distance invisible to him.

Just as the tense energy felt like snapping, she said: “It’s nothing, It’s not- my mom’s dead, Luke.” His heart collapsed in on itself, twisted. If he was prepared for the revelation, he would’ve made sure his eyes wouldn’t bug out. But holy shit, he’s known her for months now and not once was her mother a point of discussion. How had he not known?  _ Should  _ he have known? 

“But it’s been ten years,” she continued, the words spewing with jolts. “And I… God, some days I don’t even  _ think  _ about her. Sometimes I don’t even remember what she looks like and now I…” A disbelieving chuckle sputtered out. “I feel like I got something new. Of her. When I thought that wasn’t possible anymore.”

Quietly, Luke sat next to her, legs spread in front of him and arms crossed. Standing seemed rude after everything she said. He looked into her scope, a vast landscape only she saw, but was left looking at Dave’s treasured cassette collection. His eyes fixed themselves on a Michael Jackson one, tucked away and dusty, when Julie spoke again. “God… you really know everything now.”

“Dave’s an ass. I’ll tell him.”

She chuckled. “It’s fine. He was just as shocked, I guess.”

His nail scratched against a blemish on his jeans, nerves pricking his skin at the total vulnerability with which she talked. He was used to ‘self-preservation’-Julie, the one that pushed his chin away and rolled her eyes; he didn’t know what to do when the armour fell away and she let it. He could joke, lighten the mood, but that felt wrong. The moment didn’t call for smack.

Instead, a surprise to both tumbled out. “Wanna know something about me? To even the playing field?”

Her face turned, her troubled gaze locking with his unsettled one. “Yeah,” she whispered.

A smile twitched to come on, another attempt at  _ not  _ showing his cards, Luke forcefully allowing himself to feel. Julie wouldn’t judge. After all the stupid shit, he knew she wouldn’t judge. He wondered if there was a way to peel off his own armour without opening the scabs. And then he tried it. 

He averted his eyes again. It was easier to speak when it felt like he was on a phone call. “I haven’t seen or spoken my folks since I graduated. Got kicked out when they figured I took the band seriously. More seriously then school.” It happened anyway: a bitter chuckle. “Guess they had a vendetta against the radio or something. Those fuckers always have the worst commercials.”

Julie sat straighter, frowning. “You don’t have to minimise.”

“There’s nothing to say,” Luke shrugged. It was true. This was the abysmal history of the Patterson’s only son and that was it. A sob story, but a short one at that. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt as much to talk about it, nor did it feel like his armour slipped off. Rather that she snuck her way inside, creeped in his chest and now patted against his heart to check if it was still working properly. _ You don’t have to minimise, you stupid organ.  _

Julie shifted again, now fully facing him like her own morale wasn’t crushed one minute ago. “It’s still shitty though. No one deserves to be treated like that.  _ You  _ don’t deserve that. You deserve to…” Her arms flailed around, the bitterness mellowing at the sight. “-have every day be as good as watching the sunrise with Gregory Porter and dark roast coffee.”

Luke clicked his tongue. “Nah. Have to be stingy with those.”

“But you get it, right?”

“You don’t have to tell me, Julie,” he sighed. A headache from the overwhelming crash of emotions was starting to pound at the back of his head. “I know that. I know I didn’t deserve that.”

Her stubborn nature didn’t let go. “Then why minimise? Your parents don’t deserve the light treatment.”

His brows raised. “Are we fighting about how I should bitch about my parents?” A pause to swallow the onslaught of more deflection. Instead, he said what he had been wanting to say. “I’m sorry about your mom, Jules.”

Her shoulders dropped, hands falling behind her as support and stretching her legs. He patted her feet, causing her lips to quirk. It was weird. Talking about their trauma didn’t feel like a therapy session at all, rather… safe. She was safe. 

“You would’ve loved her,” she sighed. “She was a beast onstage. I saw Florence + The Machine a couple years back, and she was stomping across the stage barefoot and in this big dress and I remember seeing videos of my mom doing the same, and I realised that all these other performers must’ve admired her too. I was eighteen? Since then, it hasn’t really hurt anymore. I get sad, sometimes, but I don’t get hurt.”

He tilted his head, amused. “So my condolences mean shit to you? Damn.”

She laughed. “I’m saying… thank you. For listening and being here  _ and  _ for your condolences. And I meant what I said-” Her peering eyes reeled him in, breathless. “-you deserve sunrise mornings.”

That feeling coursing through his veins from the way she looked at him got the confession flying from his lips. “That’s why I jog.”

“What?”

“Because of my parents,” he explained, suddenly getting those nervous jitters of baring himself. “I jog to cope with it. Going out, drinking, smoking, that’s all, you know, fun. It’s social, I love doing it. It used to be an escape though. Three years ago, I realised I had to stop. For the band. My boys were hurting cause of my actions and I couldn’t do that to them. So… I started running.” A silly grin scrunched his nose. “Sunrises are like the cherry on top.”

The hug she coaxed him right after hadn’t been what he expected, but it wasn’t unwelcome either. Julie jumped up, pulled on his hand with the joke that “they should hug it out” as her eyes were shining with unshed emotion and then threw her arms around his neck. Luke complied all too willingly, pressing the grin in her shoulder as he embraced her. This hug was far better than the previous ones where she was a blubbering mess. It felt light, both burdens blown away into the ocean. They kept chuckling at the idiocy, him lifting her from the ground to make her laugh harder. 

As her feet hovered, his teasing words breathed against her neck. “You’re so short.”

“It’s unfair, that’s what,” she puffed, tapping his back to put her down. He’s hugged her three times now and he kind of wanted to do it again. It was one of the many shifts he felt around Julie, those that weren’t unpleasant, but also not completely serene like that one spectacular morning. Like he was supposed to do or say something else now. He didn’t know what to do with that flailing sensation, especially now that she knew stuff he was adamant he would tell her - yet here he was. Not lingering on it, his head nodded at the sliding doors and proposed they’d join the guys on the beach. “Enough emotional bullshit,” were his exact words. Her smile widened, not even waiting for him as she rushed out the doors and flung her shoes off as she went. Luke raced after her, no beat of hesitation. In the distance, Reggie dunked Alex underwater. The sunset was a burned yellow, smearing the sand in a holden hue and burning Julie’s flapping curls caramel. An mischievous idea formed. 

His hands cupped around his mouth. “Let’s go for a jog, Jules!”

“Wha- ah!” Luke threw her over his shoulder with a warrior cry, Julie squealing in surprise as Luke ran across the shore, feet sinking into the wet sand. Parallel to him was a surfing Willie ripping through the waves like a beast. From her jostling body tumbled laughs and curses as he chucked her onto the ground. Luke didn’t even have time to bath in victory when she scrambled up and speared him into the ocean. Well - more like really roughly pushed him in and he happily went along with it. 

Sorrow didn’t have to be sorrowful, Luke realised then. Luke realised that he rather had someone acknowledge it, see it for what it was, smile (like Julie) and then go on with life. Because what else was there to do except for moving forward? If Julie found some melancholic sense of beauty in her mother’s passing, it wasn’t impossible for him to do the same. Granted, getting kicked out and losing a parent was different, though it both left them with selfishness. Selfish, as Luke preferred to believe his parents didn’t exist; selfish, as Julie liked to find signs in benign things like a concert to feel closer to her mom and give morbid meaning to otherwise fun happenings.

It was too much to think about right now. Luke dragged her under with him for good measure. Her laughing gurgled and salt pricked his eyes, the sting being the bittersweet aftertaste the night needed. 

He listened to Rose Molina’s discography until he fell asleep. 

Reggie was recording his vocals in the bathroom-turned-studio booth at Dave’s, when Alex nudged his shoulder. Luke looked up from Julie’s Instagram post. She hadn’t told him about the gig, but he also hasn’t seen her in a while. She had put their runs on hold for a week to, presumably, make this event happen. Liking it, he met Alex’ exasperated gaze. 

“You do realise you can ask her out, right?”

A perfectly pitched high note went through the speakers, Alex and him holding an encouraging thumbs up as Luke frowned. “What do you mean? Why would I?”

He blinked. “Because you’ve been in Julie-land ever since you recorded that track with her.”

The guitarist rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “Dude, Jules and I are friends. We made-” He paused, cringed. “-a few mistakes-”

“Three. You made three.”

“-but we both agreed that there’s nothing  _ actually  _ going on. It was just sex. And I love being her friend. She’s like you and Reg combined.”

Alex grimaced. “That doesn’t help your argument. We’re your ‘soul-brothers’.”

“Then Julie is my ‘soul-sister’,” Luke joked, though the second he said the words, it left a nauseous feeling. Calling Julie his sister when they fucked was… maybe not the best way to describe their friendship. 

The blonde caught it, pointing at his face. “I saw that. You don’t even believe it yourself.”

“Dude,” Luke sighed. “What’re you trying to do? What me and Julie have, a  _ friendship, _ is good. It’s great. There’s no reason to fuck it up.”

“There was also no reason for Willie to maim me on the street, and here we are.”

“That literally has zero correlation,” he deadpanned. 

A snort puffed from his lips. “You even  _ sound  _ like her.”

So what if Julie and him were similar? Sure, there was the sexual attraction which has since subsided, the fact that they were musical equals and his apparent use of her vernacular, but that didn’t mean he was into her. He wouldn’t call her his ‘soul-sister’ again, though she essentially was just that. Had she been a guy, Alex wouldn’t have said a word about it. Maybe spontaneously giving her a slot on their new album got him suspicious, but that had all been in the name for art. Art - music - would always be a priority. Julie’s planet has simply been orbiting in the galaxy of Sunset Curve and found a way to miraculously not crash and burn. She  _ fit  _ \- big deal! 

Julie’s sultry voice singing about whiskey did him nothing. It wasn’t personal. Speaking of, they probably had to find a date to put her in the booth for vocals. He’d dm her later when he wasn’t under the scrutiny of Alexander Mercer. 

Reggie’s bit ended and Luke wanted to end this stupid conversation too. “Alex, just focus on how Sunset Curve is going to  _ blaze  _ this summer when we drop this album. We’re gonna slay all the LA festivals, you can trust me on that.”

His amused gaze turned timid, nodding. Julie was dropped from their minds. “For once, I actually do.”

They got Julie in the booth three days later, her lips the same shade as in her Instagram post and somehow the only thing Luke could think about that afternoon. When he joined her, his closed eyes were focused on the notes while his keen ears heard the way she smiled when she sang, her lilting voice drumming through the headphones.

Whenever they sang, he didn’t think about label stress. Harmonising with her might be the easiest thing in the world. Her addition to the album was what was going to make them bigger than they imagined.

Julie added backing vocals too. It left Luke warm - gently, like listening to a song and feeling oneself become overwhelmed with emotion. Like he heard something special. And it was. Her voice still kept him pushing his feet on the pavement, faster and longer, unable to quite grasp it. 

(He laid awake sometimes. As he tried to burn the images of her body, he’d think of her voice instead. It wasn’t much better, but he rather mulled over her unique timbre then fantasise about her in ways he shouldn’t. Was he losing his mind a little? Yup. Every bluff was laced with guilt.)

When she got out the booth, he high-fived her. “You slayed that.”

“Thanks,” she grinned. “It’s a great song, so it was easy to do.” 

He asked if she wanted to go on their runs again, avoiding Alex’ stare, and smiled when she agreed. 

Of all the boys, Luke was the closest to Dave. It was a gradual thing. Luke was the unspoken leader of the band and therefore had the most interactions with him. The old man found Reggie too twitchy and could ‘sense the stress’ from Alex. Luke was apparently not much better, bouncing on his heels and talking too loud, but ‘better than nothing’. Yeah, the dude never stopped being an utter dick and he was proud of it. Something shifted though. It was gifting him the newest Pearl Jam CD, it was letting Luke sit in the kitchen when he was early and it rained and Dave wanted company. They sat in silence then, though the sound of his pencil scratching out words of his cross puzzle was comforting. It was a type of tranquility, of no one owing the other shit, that he used to yearn for. Maybe Dave did too. Josephine has been gone for a while.

After recording, Luke didn’t feel like going home yet. Dave didn’t mind. They played cards for a bit. A butternut squash soup heated up in the pan, one bowl set out.    
  
“The album doesn’t seem like total garbage,” Dave noted after a while, drawing a card from the pile.    
  
Luke chuckled. “It’s rolling. We’re releasing it at the end of the month. You gonna listen to it?”

“No,” he grumbled, causing Luke’s grin to widen. The bastard was so fucking curious about the full body of work and both  _ knew  _ it. “Maybe the track with Rose- I mean, Julie. Maybe that one I’ll listen to.”

His tongue clicked, placing a double seven on the table. “It was a dick move, y’know? Calling her Rose and running off?”

He glared. “I was of no use in there. How could I know she was-” A pause, Luke looking up in surprise at his hesitance, as if saying the words added weight to the oak table. An awkward finger scratched his beard. “-dead. Didn’t know Rose was dead. Thought she just moved out, to New York or something. That was her plan, anyway.”

“Did you know her long?”

His glare mellowed into a pensive frown, cards still in his wrinkled hands. “I don’t know. Apparently not.”

Luke placed his cards down. It was bad to pry about Julie’s mother without her here, but Dave started it and now he couldn’t really stop the questions from falling. “Why’re you so…? Just be honest, dude.”

“Kid, I’m like this cause death fucking sucks.” His lips curled into an ugly scowl, putting his cards down too and leaning forward. Quiet anger spouted with each word. “You can know someone so well, until they’re not there anymore, and you realise you don’t know anything at all. You know  _ nothing.  _ I was married to my Josephine for thirty-six years and I had no clue she collected bottle caps. Cause she did. She picked them up from the side of the street, from the beach, and put them in envelopes behind her underwear. I don’t know why. I don’t know why she did that.”

Luke stared at his shoes. The way Dave talked made him feel sixteen again, being reprimanded by his parents for not knowing how the world worked. He thought he had it somewhat figured out now, but if Dave didn’t know about the bottle caps, then how much was hidden for Luke as well? How much of the world was shrouded in shadow and naivete? Death seemed so far away though. It was something he preferred not to think about. Luke was healthy and strong and didn’t go into sketchy streets late at night. He’d live for a while. He wasn’t sure if he’d forgive it himself when he laid on deathbed and regretted not doing a certain thing. (Did Josephine regret not telling Dave? Or was that the entire point? For him to find out?) 

“Life… is transient.” Dave stood up and put the pot from the stove, pouring bit of the soup into the bowl. 

Swallowing back whatever else he wanted to say, Luke asked: “Like music?”

The man smirked, thoughtful. “Like music, yeah. Rose was as transient as music.” A yellowed nail tapped against the ceramic. “You want a cup too?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Another bowl with steaming soup got placed in front of him, the gesture so familial Luke had to quickly jump subject again. “Josephine seems nice.”

“She was cooler than any of you fuckers,” Dave exclaimed with a resolute slam of his spoon against the rim. 

“C’mon, Dave, you know that’s not hard to beat,” he teased. “Gotta keep those jokes fresh!”

A derisive huff blew from his lips. “I’ll try. The point of my fucking ‘old man guru’ talk is that if you’re angry and you’re dying, you did something wrong.”   
  
“The bottle caps."

“Yeah.”

The idea carefully proposed itself. “Maybe she wanted you to be surprised.”

His eyes turned into slits. “I hate surprises.”

“Do you  _ really?”, _ Luke egged, a cocky grin edging his lips. “Cause you had no problem letting three idiots rehearse in your garage. Without hesitation.”

“With a  _ bit  _ of hesitation, boy.”

He waved it off. “Nah, you love us - it’s fine, you don’t have to admit it.”

Dave tried biting his smile off, hiding the quirk with a spoonful of soup. “That mouth is gonna get you in trouble.”

Luke matched his secretive smile, staring down in the orange goop. This was nice. Though he always claimed to  _ not  _ want the ‘old man guru talk’, this was a simple conversation free from psycho-babble, so it was actually quite pleasant. Talking shit to discuss death was easier to stomach. For a moment, they ate. 

Frowning, he asked: “Can I already be angry about stuff?”

“You’re angry?”

“Sometimes,” he shrugged, unable to elaborate.

Dave didn’t know about his troubled past nor about his small fuck-ups that piled up until it seemed insurmountable. Like with Julie. Like upsetting his boys when another day passed without true direction. It was unfair he had to be some sort of compass, something the boys never forced upon him, but was definitely felt. He was twenty-three. It was like he had one foot in adulthood and one begging for some adolescent shenanigans. 

With soup stuck in his beard, the man’s eyes slowly tracking Luke’s indifferent face. “Yeah, you can. That’s good, I think. You have more time to fix it. Some dumbasses don’t realise they’re angry until they’re fifty-five and stuck in their ways. You see those businessmen in the financial district? They’re mad as fuck.”

His brows raised. “You think I go to the financial district?” A laugh followed. “Why’re  _ you  _ in the financial district?”

“To laugh at the businessmen,” Dave deadpanned. Luke snickered. “But… be angry, Luke. I bet it brought you to the right places. And now find a way to let go. Whatever that means for you.”

Letting go of anger? That sounded like the therapist shit he didn’t need. It was stupid, Luke found. He was in the right to be livid about his parents. They didn’t deserve forgiveness nor the his ability to forget. Luke hated them and that would never change. Dave’s advice seemed utter bullshit coming from his lips. 

His spoon was gripped tight between his fist. “Are  _ you  _ still angry about the bottle caps?”

Dave’s expression thinned. Both were clued in how simple it was to say shit and talk smack, but to actually go through with what they proclaimed? Twenty-three and sixty-something and the exact same fucking position. 

“I don’t know,” he grumbled. “I just miss her.”

Luke’s shoulders and fist slackened, heart heavy at the honesty. For a singular moment, there was no burly snark in sight. Just an old, grieving man eating dinner - alone, had Luke not been there. 

“She loved Rose’s music the most,” he added in a whisper. Luke flailed to catch up. “It’s in the garage if… if you wanna listen to it. Or if you wanna give Julie the vinyl. I don’t care.”

He carefully smiled. “Yeah… she’d like that.”

On his walk home, he stopped by Dave’s old music store. It hasn’t been renovated yet to another establishment, the retro sign catching dust and grimy windows barely showing the endless racks inside. A chill ran down his spine. Transience. He didn’t know how to handle that. 

Julie and Luke were collapsed on a grassy curb in Mar Vista at six am the next day. Their aimless jogging had found them in a middle class neighbourhood, with those wide streets and sprawling trees. The type of neighbourhood he used to dream of when he was little. It wasn’t uncommon for Little Luke to be envious of the kids in his class that held big pool parties and got the newest PlayStation games. Now it didn’t matter much, the only important things in his life being music and friends. He couldn’t help but think about those eerie memories. He told her the story between gulps of water.

Her eyes were closed, head tilted to catch the first rays of warm sunlight. He watched her for a beat, noting the dark freckles on her cheeks. They weren’t there in March. 

The silence was interrupted when she said: “Are you going to my gig?”

Luke shot her a look. “You kidding?  _ Of course. _ If I’m not there who’s gonna make sure you don’t flop?” 

She swatted his sweaty arm with a smile. “How  _ sweet,  _ Luke. And I’m just checking! Dragon’s Den is a big deal.”

It was. Dragon’s Den was, alongside Raven’s Nest, one of those true Californian gems new talent found their rise to fame. Though their own gig didn’t push them on the map in the way they wanted to, their audience did grow. It was enough to keep their head above water. The thought made him wonder aloud. “You think you’ll get to quit your job if it goes well?”

Her fingers plucked a thread on her leggings. “I don’t know. I hope so. I’ll miss Olivia and the regulars though.”

“Ah, yes,  _ Olivia,”  _ he teased. “The light of my life.”

Their shoulders bumped as she retaliated.  _ “You  _ were being an idiot jumping over the counter like that!”

“I was on a mission!”

She peered, brown eyes shimmering with mock. “A very noble mission and not at all you trying to leech off my fans.”

“Yes,” he nodded gravely. “You caught me. All in the name of fame.” And then, with his gut feeling pulling him towards her: “Dave has one of your mom’s vinyls.”

Julie straightened up in surprise. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah.” Tentative, he tapped against the back of her hand. “We can listen to it next time you’re there.” It almost felt dangerous to ask, though he wasn’t quite sure why. All he knew was that he'd be disappointed if she said no. It would feel perverse to listen to it alone. 

He was in luck. Her hand turned, the tapping now on her palm as if played piano in the cushiony flesh. “I’d like that,” Julie mused. “You… you talked about my mom with Dave last night?” 

His hands folded around his knees. “Yeah. About his wife too.” Mirth lilted his tone. “It was a  _ really  _ intense match of ‘President’.”

When she rolled her eyes, he decided to continue the discussion with her. After he left and saw Dave’s store, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. It was as if that ‘existentialism’ Alex always talked about caught up to him. (Which was shitty, cause Alex was always stressed about everything and nothing.)

“Dave also told me about, uh, transience. Do you feel like life sometimes goes too fast? Or slow? I don’t know.”

Julie mouthed the word, pensive, and then locked eyes with him. “I do. I don’t really know what I’m doing most the time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “I guess I can hide it better than other people. It’s, like, I told you I didn’t get my hopes up about my career, because why would I? So many are doing the same as us. But then I think: if I can’t hope, what else is there to do? I don’t want to sit alone in my apartment when I’m sixty and realise I let life pass because I didn’t want to hope. It’s… I don’t know. I’m trying to find the balance.” An awkward laugh puffed from her lips. “Does that make sense?”

He slowly nodded. “Yeah, yeah it- it does. Don’t worry. You think-” Nearly biting his tongue off, he asked it anyway: “Do you think your mom let things pass?”

Her reply was blunt, an amused smile blooming on her face. “No. She called cancer a bitch and made jokes about her looking like the Latina Mr. Clean when she lost her hair. I think she’s the most fearless person I’ve ever met. It was probably a bit for show, but…” She shook her head. “What about you? Are you letting things pass?”

His hands twisted into the patches of grass, mud digging itself between his nails. His meandering voice sought the right words. “Yeah. When I’m heated, I lose focus. Sometimes that’s good, sometimes not. And, you know, running helps. You know that. But sometimes it’s not enough and then I  _ do  _ let shit pass.” He shrugged. “We’re in our twenties though.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “We have time.”

They laughed simultaneously. Time: the joke of the century. It felt good to laugh about this, a less weighted conversation unlike last time. On some sundrenched sidewalk in the middle of Los Angeles, Luke was at peace. Like Julie and him didn’t even talk just now and contently sat in silence the entire time. He couldn’t explain it; he was happy though. 

Standing up with a puff, he hoisted her up with an arrogant sneer. “Think you can go for another mile, ankle biter?”

“Ankle biter?!”, she yelled at his retreating back. 

“Cause you’re short!”, he threw over his shoulder. 

When Julie rammed into his side one minute later and he nearly tripped over his shoes, the only natural reaction was to grab onto her like a sack of potatoes and sprint to the end of the street as she giggled in his ear. Adolescent shenanigans shit.

**PART FOUR**

Dragon’s Den stood as a proud art deco venue tucked between two large buildings in South LA. Outside, a glossy poster of Julie’s face bathed in purple and sequins stared him down, her name and EP written beneath.  _ JULIE MOLINA. Arcana, The Lovers EP - only one night!  _ Reggie and Alex stood next to him in line amidst the throngs of other people. The turnout was great, though an audience he wasn’t used to seeing. More girls than boys, with a lot of them emulating Julie’s cover art by wearing flowy white tops and flowers in their hair. The fact that she didn’t have merch yet made her fans creative, a sight that made him quite happy. 

And damn, Luke was fucking excited to finally see her perform.

Aside from their runs, Julie essentially disappeared from the face of the earth to ready herself for the performance. It was probably the biggest one of the entire year and she  _ had  _ to succeed. Luke knew the pressure all too well.

The days leading up to her gig were different. The band was busy finalising the album, tweaking details and letting Willie make the album art, which normally occupied Luke’s entire brain capacity. All he could think of was her. (It was so fucking obsessive at points that he felt like a groupie.) Their sweaty hugs lingered; her smile was brighter, his undoubtedly too. He didn’t know how it all changed, it simply did.  _ Fuck it,  _ he then said to himself.  _ Just enjoy the ride.  _

He egged her on though. Would she have a full on band onstage with her? Would it all be pre-recorded instrumentals? Would she play piano? Would her lips be that unnerving shade of red? She was tightlipped during their runs, wanting to keep it a surprise. It drove him mad, to the point that Alex threw a spoon at him and told him to chill the fuck out. 

Luke was simply enthralled by everything Julie did. The most natural way of living.

The queue began to move. Inside, it was small. It would hold about six hundred people, seven if DD was lax today. Luke hoped so; Julie deserved all the listeners she could get. To his delight, there was a full band tuning their instruments and a grand piano in the corner. Moody purple lighting left the crowd murmuring excitedly, all finding a spot in the pit. The boys got as close to the stage as possible. There were a few that recognised them, though none approached the group. 

Reggie pouted. “Aw, are we not special here?”

“With Julie going on in twenty minutes?” Luke said. “Nope. We’re nobodies.”

“Damn, Luke,” Alex scoffed. 

He grinned, slapping his shoulder. “You know what I mean. Dialling up the charm when Julie’s about to perform is just rude. You know I can do it.”

Amusement twinkled in the blonde’s eyes. “Sure.”

All amusement was lost when the lights dimmed to pitch black and an atmospheric drum reverberated the ground until he lost his own heartbeat. It was overpowering, Luke’s anticipation coming to a fever pitch as he saw her vague silhouette coming from the wings. 

The cymbal crashed, blinding white lights flaring up. The audience shouted and whistled as Julie stood in the middle of the stage, wide stance and a confident smirk on her face. A white lace dress, slinky and dripping to the floor, left little to the imagination. She was barefoot, hair wild and full of flowers and opalescent pearls. 

Luke was breathless. Awed, he watched as this vision from his wildest fantasies wrapped her hands around the white mic and jumped into her first track, ‘Light Up The Dark’. Had her voice not spurred him into action, bobbing along to the heavy beat, he would’ve stayed wonderstruck for the rest of the night.

Julie Molina was the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. 

The band fed off her energy, frenzied and fast and every musician synced. She danced and they added punch. Her voice lilted dangerously and they left a simmering heat in their wake. They were incredible. Where Julie found them, was a question he’d ask her later.

Watching her sing in her bedroom was just a fraction of what she had been capable of. Julie was a beast onstage, voice ricocheting against the walls with each hitting lyric. Luke found himself dancing with her, the impact of her voice making him kick his feet and shake his shoulders. Alex and Reggie were into as well, jumping and mouthing along. 

“Hello, everyone,” she laughed into the mic when the song was over. The crowd hooted. “I’m Julie Molina! That’s Jack on the drums, Astrid on the bass, Malik on the guitar and Rory on the keys!”

The boys whistled, always ready to support those that spent hours gruelling on their instruments to get it perfect. 

Her smile widened. “The next song is, uh, for when the men in your life love spouting bullshit. Ladies, you get that, right?”

A salvo of whoops and yells came from the pit. 

“Alright,” she laughed. “This is ‘Your Sweet Nothing’. Please, please,  _ please  _ dance along!” 

A funky intro and her bright backing vocals mad the audience swaying, Luke’s beam unwavering. It was incredible, she was incredible. That same overwhelming sensation of adoration for her, of admiration, of exaltation at seeing her do what she was meant to do. It rushed between his ribs straight to his heart. It rattled him; he  _ loved  _ it. Now, he allowed himself to feel it. To let the power of Julie crash his soul. He was rendered in a state of bliss. 

Songs flowed into one another, every once and a while a small anekdote about the making of or a relatable snippet about her life. Most of them made fun of Nick, which he all too eagerly laughed along with.

She didn’t sing ‘Right Here, Right Now’, but she did surprise everyone when she announced something else. 

Julie took a sip of water, threw a flower from her hair into the audience on a whim and then said: “So, I recently wrote a new song. It’s unreleased.”

Groups of people lost it, an ecstatic screech coming from the back and making everyone giggle. Blood pounded in Luke’s ears. A new song? That he didn’t know of? His teeth bit down on his lower lip, wide eyes trained on Julie’s shimmering face. 

Her nose scrunched up in glee. “Thank you, whoever that was! This next song is, uh, it’s very different and not related to Arcana. I wrote it last week when I- damn-” She laughed. “Life’s just complicated sometimes, you know? Anyway, this is ‘Gimme What I Want’.”

A dark drum beat set in, her entire stance morphing to sexy tilt of the hip. Luke’s hands twitched, breaths shallowing. _ Holy shit.  _ Her lips were pressed against the mic, brows furrowed into a look that made her hotter than she already was. 

_ Midnight and the moon is out  
_ _ Careful, you might hurt yourself  
_ _ Pleasure leads to pain  
_ _ To me, they're both the same _

Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Julie really had to kill him with a song about sex. Luke froze.  _ Oh.  _ It was killing him. Shit. 

_ Sweat drippin' down to the floor  
_ _ Bite marks like an animal  
_ _ You might be insane  
_ _ But maybe we're the same _

Was it bad to realise he was absolutely crazy about her when she was onstage singing a song like that? Did that make him an asshole? Cause holy shit, he might truly be head over heels. It was her singing Gregory Porter at the top of her lungs at a viewpoint, it was standing in her closet to record a song, it was playing stupid hand games with her during her shifts at Magnolia Mocha and letting her reach up to wipe a smudge from his chin and letting him hug her until either felt better again. 

Julie, meanwhile, lit the stage on fire with each syllable uttered. 

_ Tonight you came here  
_ _ 'Cause you know what I need  
_ _ And no one likes to be alone _

Going into a powerful belt, Dragon’s Den exploded. Everyone that wasn’t listening before - hell, even the pedestrians outside - were lured in now. 

_ I don't need a future, I don't need your past  
_ _ I just need a lover  
_ _ So gimme what I want or I'll give it to my  
_ _ Self-inflicted torture, you don't have to ask  
_ _ I just need a lover  
_ _ So gimme what I want or I'll give it to myself _

Julie hit every note, fully hypnotised by her own craft as she whirled around. She was a total rockstar and he felt himself glowing with pride. Dropping to her knees and singing to the first row, the girl oozed allure. 

_ I can tell that you're new to this  
_ _ Slow it down, but you can't resist  
_ _ Beat your fantasy  
_ _ Give yourself to me _

Soon, the two minute thirty second song was over, Julie given it her all. Her forehead had a sheet of sweat, feet red from jumping. 

“Thank you so much!”, she bellowed into the mic. The fans kept applauding and screaming. “Thank you! This was Jack and Malik and Rory and Astrid and I’m Julie Molina! Have a great night!”

His heart dropped to his feet when she disappeared into the wings and the lights flicked on, a gentle pop song coming from the stereo as the people slowly trickled out the venue. He was going to see her now. They had all planned to meet up at the back of DD and then all go to O’Reilly’s to celebrate. Luke would have to face Julie, her dressed like that, when he just figured out how fucking  _ besotted  _ he was. Because that was the only way to describe it: besotted. He was a fool. 

Alex noted his face and let a shit-eating grin grow on his cheeks. “Told you.”

Luckily, Julie changed out of her dress into jeans and a top. Flynn and Carrie were tightly hugging her by the time the boys found the back alley. He was nervous, fingers gripping the chain around his trousers as his mind let all the thoughts he suppressed before run free. Julie was amazing, Julie was gorgeous, Julie was smart, Julie was a musical genius, Julie, Julie, Julie. 

“Hey!”, she greeted, voice pitched from adrenaline. She smelled like perfume and the high of a good performance and Luke almost kissed her skin to taste it. They hugged instead. “What did you think?” 

Fumbling, Luke’s words spilled out. “You were- it was amazing, Julie. You’re a fucking star. You were- you-”

“You were great,” Alex jumped in, detaching the pair so he could give her a hug. Julie shot him another smile over the blonde’s shoulder, his own trembling to not say anything stupid. 

One moment, one  _ thought, _ was enough for him to lose it. He should’ve known Dragon’s Den would change shit. (Things have simply been too good for too long.) 

Reggie followed. “Astrid was really hot,” he said while hugging. “Can I get her number?”

“She’s married.”

“Shucks.”

O’Reilly’s was packed by the time the group arrived, raucous and familiar. On the way, Julie babbled at an adrenaline-filled speed about how exhilarating it was. How it was her best set yet with the best crowd. (“Even if nothing big comes out of it,” she said. “I’m happy.”) She was tucked between Carrie and Flynn, her face bright and open and too achingly pretty  _ and Luke was not okay.  _

In any other situation, he wouldn’t see the problem. He was a flirt, she was a flirt, it would work. He  _ knew  _ it would work. It was worked three times before and neither could deny they didn’t have that weird vibe sometimes. But Julie and him were friends now. Friends didn’t make a move on friends; especially those that made it clear they didn’t want it. She was the one that left early in the morning after their drunken mistake. It was now that Luke realised how guttural the hurt was. 

Had it been anyone other than Julie Molina, he’d ‘dial up the charm’ and use the smile that lured her in before and shoot his shot. It  _ was  _ her, however, and he wanted more than FWB. He wanted to worm himself between the girls. Grab her hand, kiss her, tell her how fucking incredible she was from the chest. As fast as Julie was speaking, as hard he was torpedoing into his feelings. 

Music blasted in their faces the second they pushed the heavy doors open of the bar. Tables were pushed aside, Pablo was swamped with dozens of drunkards asking for another drink, college kids were dancing, a heap of ties on one table as a handful of young office people played billiards in the back. 

“Pablo!”, Flynn yelled over all the noise. The man recognised her, throwing a shaka. “Six beers!”

“Make that seven!”, Alex added. “Willie’s coming.”

When the glasses were piled on a sticky table, they all huddled around it. Carrie, only vaguely seen over the past months in and out of Flynn’s bedroom, lifted hers. 

Her pink-painted lips stretched into a wide smile. “To Julie! For performing an awesome set despite not taking my fashion advice!”

The girl in question rolled her eyes good-naturedly and blew a kiss, the group snickering. “Love you too, Carrie.”

Everyone lifted their beers, Luke the highest of all. “To Julie!” 

Hours rushed by in a haze of alcohol and laughter. As opposed to the last time they were all at O’Reilly’s and Julie and him didn’t stop talking, now they were on the dance floor. Thick clusters of people that clung to each other like sweat, arms and legs intertwining, tinged by vodka shots and the gross IPA’s he downed like it was water. Luke didn’t think about his feelings. All that went through him was to have a good fucking time. That was the only thing that mattered: drink, sing along at the top of his lungs to some killer classics and maybe end the night smoking with Alex on the balcony. 

Incessant asks for pop songs made a bartender shift to a mainstream playlist, which was cool - everyone was drunk as fuck anyway. ‘Bloodline’ by Ariana Grande boomed through the amps, the floor vibrating from the heavy bass and trumpets. Instantly, the sultry atmosphere brought people impossibly close. Willie grabbed onto Alex, the blonde’s hands slipping under the crop top. 

His bleary eyes found Julie. She was dancing by herself, fingers twisting and curling as if she could touch the notes. His feet moved on their own accord, mind hazy, slipping in front of her. Nothing had to be said, matching smiles and heavy-lidded eyes, her hands slinging over his neck and him finding the curve of her hips. 

Green bore into brown, foreheads and lower halves pressed together. The sweetness of the mojito she had hours ago still lingered on her breath. His body told him to lean in, close the gap and give into the hunger, the  _ need.  _ They were drunk, they were into it, she swayed between his strong arms. Luke wanted, wanted, wanted. 

His eyes rolled back behind closed lids as one hand slid down his chest. He had no clue what was going on; what this all meant, if this was just them playing games (feeding into the attraction, the loneliness, the inevitable black-out), if he could kiss her and not fuck up. If he’d stop himself if she kissed him. Oh, man. Luke stopped being rational five beers ago. 

It didn’t end after ‘Bloodline’ - more songs with heavy bass flowed between the little space between them, every so often a new drink downed to the point his eyes blurred and all he saw was colour and lights and Julie’s mouth. 

Her cheek brushed his, lips puckering against his ear as he crowded over her. “You’re a good dancer,” she giggled, barely audible and vowels muffled together. Luke hugged her till she was flush against him, laughing and thanking her. Her head slumped against his shoulder, unable to stop giggling. It was stark contrast to the Julie calling his friends ‘fucking amateurs’. 

The red streak of sunlight edging on the horizon hurt his eyes when he stumbled out the bar, Julie still under his arm. Shreds of conversations were yelled form all sides of the group. Luke was barely cognisant, the only thing he could focus on was Julie’s weight against him. Somehow, she went with him and the boys instead of Flynn and Carrie. He heard her goofing with Reggie, calling him out for being ‘all over that redhead’ and more he didn’t register. Willie was whispering in Alex’ ear the entire trek, both men using each other to stay upright. 

The boys and Julie watched the sun come up on the balcony, two blunts shared between them. He remembered how she told a joke with her nose pressed in his cheek and how he had pretended to bite it. How they pulled each other from the ground and how they dumped themselves on his bed. How he didn’t kiss her, but that it didn’t matter much. 

All that mattered was having a good fucking time, right? 

Luke woke up with a pounding headache, a muffled groan drilling into the matress. He felt sticky and sweaty and he knew that if he moved an inch his stomach would be protesting. A wet patch of drool clung to his skin. One eye cracked open, which was a mistake, as it peeked right through the half-opened blinds of his bedroom. It shut again and opened the other one.

Julie laid next to him on her stomach, face hidden by her mess of hair. He then noted how they probably collapsed onto his bed without another thought. They were fully clothed and on top of the sheets, her nearly falling off his bed. Relief cleared his head for a beat. Thank God - no drunk sex by mistake. Luke wouldn’t survive that one if they did. 

Would he gauge his eyes out if he looked for is phone and checked the time? Taking the risk, he blindly patted for it and, when he felt the familiar surface, tilted it upright. White light shrivelled his sight, barely able to keep back a moan. It was three in the afternoon. Outside his door was rumbling, though it sounded like sirens in his sensitive ears. How the fuck were Alex or Reggie already up? Had Julie and him really overdone it? It sounded true. Luke couldn’t remember how much he had, just that it was a lot. The blunt in the end probably didn’t help either.

Damn. He didn’t even black-out. The only perk of getting older, he guessed. 

Luke still felt her lips grazing his ear as she laughed, how she pulled herself so far in his hold that she had been a brush away. And now she was here. So still, she was might as well dead. Luke froze. Oh, shit. She wasn’t, was she? Poking her leg with his toe, the girl grumbled. 

“Hmm…” Julie’s hand roughly combed the curls out of her face, a wrecked expression facing him. 

Luke snorted. “You look like shit.” A surprised pause. Damn, his voice was-

“And you sound like shit,” she replied, hoarse. Magically, Julie found a way to sit upright with minimal grimaces. Nope. Luke was going to remain horizontal for a couple more hours; until he had to pee. Which, now that he thought about it, was soon. 

The rushing sensation of last night hasn’t dwindled either. It was flaring up, his stomach fluttering from something other than alcohol. Julie was in his room. She was here. She went home with him; even if that was out of Drunk Person Logic. They shared a blunt and he pretended to bite her nose and her cute smile had been right there. Did his mind lag? Did it cut between two scenes and make him forget they kissed? It seemed like a normal progression: having her in front of him and kissing her. 

But they didn’t. Cause if they did, Julie would’ve left by now. Maybe even sent an apology text. 

Julie scratched her throat. “I smoked with you guys, huh?”

Slowly, he sat up too. His bladder was starting to beg. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “I bit your nose.”

“I know.” A smile quirked on her lips. “Is it still on?”

He tilted his head. “Meh. Only a bit. Might need to get that fixed.”

Their quiet smiles made his heart beat faster. He wished he could stay in this moment, capture the look on her face and tuck it in the back of his mind. Alas, he was going to combust if he wasn’t peeing in like, five seconds. Sprinting from his bed and stumbling over shit, he rushed out the door. The croaky laugh of Julie followed his steps. 

His head dropped in his hands as he sat down with a puff. Yeesh. His body was a bitch. 

A sense of déjà vu washed over him as he stood in the threshold of the living room. Julie sitting on a stool by the kitchen island, Alex making frittata, Reggie reading from a worn paperback. Calmness settled upon him. This was nice. It was a normalcy he’d love to repeat. The hangover was unfortunate, but he’d take it if it meant Julie would wave her phone at him and Alex grumble: “Good afternoon, loser.”

“The review is out!”, she proclaimed, Reggie scowling at sudden sound. Alex left the stove, all three boys huddling around her with feverish curiosity. (Party to see her do well, partly to see if they were on an equal playing field. Luke would never not feel that competitive edge lacing his blood.)

***

**L.A. Record**

**_JULIE MOLINA PREDICTS HER FUTURE WITH “ARCANA” @DRAGONSDEN_ **

  * SATURDAY JUNE 19TH, written: junior reviewer Kayla Caro



LA singer Julie Molina makes her debut at Dragon’s Den a flaming success. Her newest EP tackles topics of heartache exceptionally well, a concept translating well onstage. Instrumentals and vocals were heavenly, though the fan-favourite ‘Right Here, Right Now ft. Luke Patterson’ was left out. ‘Arcana: The Lovers EP’ is a darker take on the usually whimsical ballads, which makes me wonder if she can keep up this trajectory or fall back into sweet nothings. 

Let’s hope Julie Molina picked her cards well, because I can see a bright musical future if she did. 

★★★★☆

***

Her nose curled up, confused. “She thinks I’m a one trick pony?”

Reggie downed his green juice. “Nope. She was being punny.”

“Yeah,” Luke grumbled. “Kayla Caro  _ loves  _ making jokes.”

Alex squeezed her shoulder and went back to the stove. “It’s a good review, Julie. Kayla is normally way more brutal.”

Fixing his attitude, he shot her a smile. “Yeah, trust me, this is good. You’re gonna get people calling in no time.”

Alex and Reggie looked him, bewildered. Luke realised his mistake too late. His voice had been so soothing - so  _ soft  _ \- it was wild Julie didn’t remark on it. He was about to place his hand on her shoulder, now awkwardly hovering right above. Her gaze was fixed on the article however, unaware of the hysteria between the three boys. 

If Alex caught his face last night, this put the nail in the coffin. Luke Patterson was a confirmed simp for Julie Molina. For good measure, Reggie mouthed the word at him, the guitarist flipping him off. 

After their late breakfast, Julie left the boys’ apartment - not before hugging Luke and telling him she wouldn’t get a nose job just yet. Luke almost replied that her face was literally perfect and that he’d been gawking the entire one hour set, but instead laughed and shoved her out the door. Like friends would. 

This was such a fucking mess. Their entire relationship was so fucked; how in the world did they think this would work? Had a part of him always hoped it would work itself out? If there was, then  _ damn, _ he should start listening to his gut feeling. 

Just as she disappeared around the corner, leaving Luke like a fool in the doorway, Reggie’s voice perked up. “Are we gonna talk about that oozing-?”

“Nope,” Luke cut in, turning around with a stressed smile. “We’re not. I’m going on a run.”

Alex frowned. “You drank your weight in alcohol. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Luke rolled his eyes, ignoring his question and moving back to his room to change. It was unfortunate his friends didn’t quite get the urgency of the problem, but Luke knew he could always rely on the asphalt. That never changed. The haphazard comment that followed about releasing the next album was subdued by Luke’s headphones. The door slammed shut. 

Despite all the shit Luke has gone trough, he didn’t lose friends. Ever. If he’d have to pride himself at one thing, it was that he was great at maintaining friendships. Probably because the only true friends he’s always had were Reggie and Alex. They were more or less bonded for life through the band and their claim as ‘soul-brothers’. With Alex came Willie and he was just so effortlessly cool that it just made sense. Luke didn’t lose friends. The terror settled in his chest with each rattling breath that pushed from his lungs. 

The idea of losing Julie, a true friend, petrified him. 

Had it been anyone else, he’d think he was blowing it out of proportion. Luke was a passionate person. Julie was passionate person. They made passionate music. The attraction made sense. But it was the mixture of deep camaraderie and earnest conversation and musical understanding. It was all of that. It was Julie smiling at him as she told him he sounded like shit. It was Julie pressing her nose in his cheek, something he knew he’d be mulling over for days to come. Again, another sign this wasn’t some fleeting thing. Mulling about drunk anecdote? Not his usual style. 

He wiped the Julie-problem aside as he sprinted into a quiet neighbourhood of the San Fernando Valley. The band should have his focus. Luke groaned. Wasn’t this the exact thing he was fearing months earlier? How he shouldn’t get close to a girl like Julie? And that was when they just had sex. He was so fucked. 

The band. In a week, they’d drop ‘Purple Utopia’ and play a couple small venues. If it went well, if the audience respected their new musical ventures, then they’d hopefully score themselves a record deal. How rad would it be if they got on the radio? The thought brought a smile to his face. It had been a while since he had felt such certainty about their music. He’d never admit it, but maybe Kayla Caro had been right. Maybe they were too comfortable in their niche before. Because here they were, with a killer new album, and he didn’t feel like a sell-out. Those Shawn Mendes wannabes would never be able to catch him - ha! 

Maybe he should just start hooking up with more girls again, his mind involuntarily supplied. It was became a rarity these past few weeks (months?), busy with the band and apparently in denial about Julie. It made sense now - the idea did too - but it didn’t feel fair. Luke wanted Julie. Rebounding on a girl he was never officially with was fucking pathetic. 

The band. Focus on the band. 

(Her nose pressed in his cheek as she uttered a lame joke, his head turning abruptly and then making a sound as if he were to chomp her nose off. The tip got caught by his teeth, Julie giggling and falling into his side. Luke passed the blunt to Willie, his free hands cradling her cheeks to say something. Her heavy-lidded gaze was blank, slowly nodding to whatever he said. They stared for a beat. He still didn’t know whether they kissed or not, but he remembered how content he felt brushing his thumbs against her soft skin. How close she’d been. How, according to Drunk Stoned Luke, she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen - even in this state. Then she crawled to her feet and hoisted him up and together they fell on his bed. And then the moment replayed itself. Joke, nose, cheeks, contentment. Uncomplicated adoration. Repeat.) 

The album dropped while in Dave’s garage. Willie was out surfing, the grump elsewhere, the boys of the band huddled around Alex’ computer as his finger hovered above the ‘enter’-key. They were waiting on Luke to give the sign. It was stupid, but he felt as if the right second could decide everything. Art was all about luck and timing, so why not the exact moment one dropped a body of work? It left the two others impatient though. 

“Luke-”

“Not yet,” he mumbled, voice cryptic. 

Alex rolled his eyes. “You’re not a spy.”

Amusement lilted Reggie’s tone. “I kind of like Luke’s Bond expression.”

Luke grinned, slapping his shoulder. “Thanks, bud - oh!” The fated sign came. “Now!”

Alex’ finger slammed down on they key, Dave’s terrible wifi churning to complete the task and two seconds later, their album was out. The bassist cracked open the cold beers, though the bottles were lukewarm from the summer heat. Gleeful anticipation bubbled in his stomach. Biting down a grin, their drinks chimed as they yelled a hopeful “Cheers!”

***

**sunset curve** **  
** **@sunsetcurve** **  
** NEW ALBUM OUT NOW! STREAM “PURPLE UTOPIA” EVERYWHERE!!

**  
** **  
** **luke patterson  
** **@lukepatterson  
** a new era @sunsetcurve #purpleutopia

**L.A. Records  
** **@la_records  
** The revival of @sunsetcurve is here with their newest album Purple Utopia! #purpleutopia 

**julie molina  
** **@thejuliemolina  
** not my besties @sunsetcurve dropping the album of the year. listen to PURPLE UTOPIA now! 

**sunset curve owns me  
** **@lukeysbeanies001  
** brb trying to not cry for the millionth time listening to #purpleutopia by @sunsetcurve holy fucking shit. the gc is going ballistic. 

**doing hot princess shit  
** **@oliviathephantom  
** ……………………. SO I GUESS JULIE AND LUKE ARE MUSIC PARTNERS NOW??? #purpleutopia #honeywhiskey @lukepatterson @thejuliemolina

**merry rickinson  
** **@merrickmerrick11  
** why the fuck am i only finding out abt @sunsetcurve now??? WE HAVE BEEN SLEEPING ON THEM YALL #purpleutopia

***

It was weird. Milestones didn’t hit like they did when they were younger. A rich kid turned sixteen and got a car, a poor kid turned eighteen and bought a lottery ticket.  _ Symbolically, _ it was a huge milestone for the band. In reality, life went on as normal. 

Reggie read his paperbacks, Alex cooked breakfast, Luke went on his runs with Julie. They jammed at Dave’s. The number of streams were steadily climbing and it was well-received by critics, but nothing actually happened. More recognition, sure. A small influx in gigs, also nice.

But that fucking record deal wasn’t coming. 

It frustrated Luke. Wasn’t this what they were supposed to do? The magic to fulfilling their dreams? Kayla Caro had given them the push and they morphed that into a musical avalanche. It should’ve worked.

Except two weeks went by with no emails. Luke hated how it dictated his mood. Alex and Reggie were surprisingly chipper, high on performances around the area and the amazing response online. He wished he could say the same. 

It was that damned role he prescribed himself. As a leader, a compass, the boss. What would happen once the hype dwindled? Once the party was over? They’d revert back to scrambling for gigs and wondering what they were doing wrong. Why after so many fucking years, they still couldn’t solve the riddle. Frankly, Luke was close to just blaming nepotism and elitism and every other -ism. 

“You’re beating yourself up too much,” Julie said during one of his trips to Magnolia Mocha.

His aimless stirring halted at her words, a frown pinching his brows. “It just sucks. Aren’t you mad you didn’t get a deal?”

She kept moving as if he hadn’t said anything, turning to the register to take an order, and answered him minutes later. “Not mad. I’m not  _ mad  _ about it. Like we’ve said,” a smile quirked on her pretty lips, “we have time.  _ I  _ have time. I’ll just keep making music.”

Luke sighed, eyes dropping back to his mug. “You deserved a deal though. I don’t get why it didn’t happen. You rocked every song.”

“Thanks,” she muttered. Then, with a lighter tone: “And hey, sometimes… it takes a while for an album to  _ really  _ pop off. Who knows, maybe Netflix will ask to use one of your songs for some indie coming of age movie.”

Chuckling, he shot her an appreciative smile. Hers was teasing, like she told him a joke though she meant every word of it. Her hand slipped across the counter, wrapping around his fingers and softly squeezing. 

“So get your head out of your ass,” she finished, blunt. “The customers are probably getting depressed just by looking at.”

His face fell flat. “It’s LA. Everyone has  _ something.” _

Her smile widened. “Doesn’t that make us hypocrites?”

“We’re  _ artists,”  _ he winked. “There’s a difference.”

“What, we get a free pass?”

He squeezed back with a grin.  _ “Exactly.”  _

Her hand fell back behind the counter, the loss of her warm touch leaving him dazed for a beat. Turning to refill one of the machines with beans, she spoke over her shoulder. “Just let the universe do its thing.”

The cup slid to the side, body leaning over to be closer to her. “Cause that’s what people do. Letting the  _ universe  _ decide.”

“Luke.” Her voice dropped with a note of finality, meeting him halfway on the counter and noses inches away. “You didn’t  _ lose  _ anything. You created an amazing album. You should be proud of that.” Her eyes flickered across his face, bemused. “Fuck the rest.”

Not backing away, he murmured: “What was your favourite? Aside from ‘Honey Whiskey’.”

Julie thought for a moment, eyes raised to the ceiling. He could see her faded freckles and an acne scar on her temple and the way her lashes were clumped together by mascara. So close he could kiss her. Luke felt himself soften, always dancing into a haze when Julie was near. 

“‘Trip Switch’,” she said. “There’s something… I like how dangerous it sounds.”

Zeroing back in on him, he felt the air sucked out the room, as if the sun shifted to solely have a spotlight on them. Julie had the ability to pierce through him with a simple stare, rendering him speechless. She was the danger she liked. It was about her, sort of. It wasn’t with her specifically in mind, but one could argue all the songs on the new record were about her. Would she be offended if she knew? ‘Easier’ had already been a risk and she was gracious enough to not kill him for it. 

“Yeah?” 

Pushing herself off, the moment was over. Luke blinked and ignored how awestruck his simple question sounded.

She nodded. “It always gets people dancing at the gigs.”

A flush crept up his neck, heat pricking his skin at the memory of the first performance after the album dropped. The small venue filled with smoke, dark strobe lights and spots from the 90s, their bodies sweating like pigs after just one song. Moshpits formed during multiple songs, a continuous flow of moving bodies feeding them the energy the band needed. They gave back quadruple, Reggie jumping non-stop, Alex drumming till his hands ached, Luke pulling out every trick from the book. He danced, went on his knees, went into encores and solos and hyped back and forths with the audience. That they had to sing along, sing louder, jump harder. It had been one of their best sets. 

All that energy afterwards usually got directed to a girl. Adrenaline rippling his skin, sparks tingling his fingertips for that  _ need  _ of another person. He grabbed Julie into another dance at O’Reilly’s instead. It was wrong to perform under the guise of friendship, as if his lustful gripping of her hips was nothing more but post-exhilaration from singing. She went with it. The chance that she wanted him too often chimed in the back of his head, but the fear of losing her was greater. 

She went home with Flynn that night. He didn’t get to bite her nose again and potentially kiss her. The boys didn’t question why he didn’t find himself a girl to have sex with. They understood. 

They danced at the second and third gig too. The fourth was without her. He hasn’t told her he was sulking that evening. The fifth gig, a mere two days ago, had drunk Luke and Julie roll their hips against each other. It almost felt like a game, spurring to cheat and have one ruin the fun. Luke was the king of Fun. It wasn’t going to be him. Eventually, sticky hands shoved him off with a good-natured laugh and chimmied over to Reggie. 

Was he a horny fool? Totally. 

Drinking the last of his americano, he tapped against the wooden napkin dispenser. “I’m heading out.”

Julie perked up and came from around the counter. “Okay.”

Hugging, one hand slipped up to cradle her neck. It was instinctual, letting his fingers trail up the knobs of her spine and rest there. Her heartbeat thudded gently against his. Had she been looking at him, he’d have to hide his dopey smile. They slowly pulled apart, his hand going last and making a show of placing her braid over her shoulder. 

“See you tomorrow.” A bashful smile played on her lips, averting that gaze of hers.

He let himself linger for another beat, before saluting a goodbye and grabbing his backpack from the floor. When he waved once more, one foot out the door, she was already whisked away by duties. 

Coming home, an excited Alex caught him in the kitchen and stuffed his phone in his grip. The evident confusion washed away in a snap. 

**might know a dude that can get you on the radio ;)**

Luke felt his bones rattle out of place, breath hitching at the words illuminated on the screen. Willie was a fucking god. If Alex wasn’t dating the guy, Luke would do him right now. 

“Is he fucking with us?” he breathed, mouth parted in disbelief. A prideful Alex fixed his cap with a smirk.

“He’s serious. Some radio dude once bought a painting of his and they’ve stayed in contact.” Nodding at the text, he added: “He might be able to wrangle a favour.”

“Holy shit.” Reality finally struck. “Holy shit!” Luke roared, throwing the phone on the island and wrestling Alex into a bear hug. “This is huge!”

This would change the game! If Willie was persuasive enough - and he was - then whoever was listening to that station would hear their music. Dozens of people connecting to their lyrics and their voices and instrumentals, moved by emotion or urged to sing along as they drove down a highway. Maybe they’d be lounging in their garden. Maybe it would play at a pool party and a ton of frat boys Shazam it. The band reaching further than any venue ever could. Another chance to get discovered! Not all was lost! 

The boys jumped and danced around at the possibility of stardom licking at their feet. Reggie, unaware of what was going on as he stepped inside, joined the chaos without a second thought.

Throwing his arms around their shoulders and butting their heads together, Luke hissed through grinning lips: “Boys. This is it.  _ Actually  _ it.”

Alex mellowed a bit. “Willie still has to ask.”

“Can you for once get hyped?” Reggie teased. “This is it!”

Luke patted his back. “Yeah! Willie’s gonna use that handsome face of his and-”

“He’s not a pimp.”

“God, Alex!” He laughed, trying to stay on track with his thoughts. “It’s gonna work. Trust your boyfriend.” Letting go, he rushed for his bag. “Oh, man, I gotta tell Julie about this.”

The silence with which his words were met, made him glare and turn around. “So the mention of Julie is going to make you assholes?”

Reggie plopped down on a stool. “Pining is only cute for a couple of weeks before it becomes, uh-”

“Pathetic,” Alex finished, the bassist pointing at him in agreement. 

The guitarist’s eyes narrowed, blindly finding his phone. “Just let me do my thing. Okay? I’ll figure it out.”

“Your ‘thing’,” the blonde retorted, making quotations in the air, “is grinding with her at O’Reilly’s and then pretending you  _ didn’t  _ do that when you go on runs together. Yeah?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

_ “Dude.” _

Befuddlement pulled on Reg’s face. “You know she probably likes you back right?”

Immediately shaking his head, he wished Reggie never said it. That he could deflect those wishful ideas and not let them fester later tonight. His phone fell in his pocket and went for the door. (He knew it was bad - running when confrontations like these arose, but he really couldn’t deal with this right now. Why did the boys have to temper the excitement by bringing Julie into the mix? Why couldn’t he just be into her without their scrutiny? Bullshit.) 

They didn’t ask where he was headed. Knowing him: an aimless walk, Julie or Dave’s. It was the latter, the garage beckoning him for much needed relief. Maybe the old grump and him could share a bowl of soup again. 

Dave didn’t say anything when Luke arrived, his observant eyes watching as he made a left turn to the garage and slid the doors open in one fluid motion. His feet propelled him to the massive music collection, fingering the cases in search of something to listen to. It stopped at that Michael Jackson cassette. 

Back when Luke was a kid, MTV used to play music. Between ‘My Super Sweet Sixteen’ and ‘Teen Mom’, they pretended they still cared about their original intent and showed some music videos. Sometimes, it was an oldie. Luke was eight years old when ‘Smooth Criminal’ came on. Awed, he was struck by how fucking incredible it was. Granted, the man wasn’t great, but that video had spurred Luke on to become as talented as him. 

The cassette slipped from its place and into the stereo. It was the seventh track and, to his delight, the extended seven minute version. He plopped down on the ratty couch and let himself simmer in the sound. 

That fifth gig was also the one where he invited her onstage to sing ‘Honey Whiskey’ with them. The crowd went feral. It was unplanned, but the boys weren’t annoyed. Julie looked effortlessly part of the band - baggy jeans and crop top - and thanked the techie for adding another mic with the ease only a seasoned performer could. 

Alex kicked it off with the familiar drums, Julie adapting to interacting with them like the few times in Dave’s studio as opposed to being the solo act. She was a natural. Luke kept his eyes on her, grinning like a fool and nearly missing his verses. During their duet, they shared the mic and left a blazing trail of musical chemistry in their wake. His knees sunk to be on her level. Lips grazing her mic and watching as hers did the same. How the chorus lamenting about possibly regretting decisions pushed them closer, the contrast making the fans roar louder. 

How after, when she was swallowed by the void again, he was still able to spot her. How fire elicited every atom in his body to play harder and better. Luke yelled about how incredible she was in the mic when they ended their set.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise shit got heavy at O’Reilly’s. They simply finished what they started. 

Did time also apply to them? Has the right moment surpassed him? Was that quiet moment in her bedroom months ago, lips kissing up her spine, the point of contention? Or did they still had loads of moments to choose from, like pit stops on lone highways? 

His hand slipped in his pocket and wrapped around his phone. Swiping to her Instagram, he shot her a simple dm. It was instinctual; he thought about her and then he had to see her. It was selfish. Was her saying she’d be there in ten another stop on the highway  _ almost  _ taken but not quite? 

This mulling was fucking exhausting. Luke was keenly reminded why he didn’t do this shit before. 

Julie Molina arrived with all her beauty, curious eyes tracking his slumped frame as Michael Jackson blared from the stereo. Quietly, he checked her out. She looked good. She  _ still _ looked good, even after all her hours at work. Her braid was out though, wild and frizzy from the heat. 

“I came by to watch you…” An awkward smile pressed on her lips. “Be in your feels?”

He shook his head, smiling. “To listen to music with me. To your mom, if you want. Or to MJ.”

“Right,” she trailed, stepping towards the collection. “Dave has her vinyl, right?” Before he could reply, she found it and hauled it from the crate. Intrigued, he jumped up from the couch and peered over her shoulder to inspect it. 

It was purple, four girls in that typical 90s stance while glaring at the camera. One girl had black lipstick and butterfly clips, pierced tongue out. It was hella punk and Luke loved it. The woman in the middle was obviously Julie’s mother. The same heart-shaped face, the same hair, the same smile. They could’ve been sisters. 

Then he noticed something. “Hey!” Tapping his nail on Rose’s outfit, he exclaimed: “You’ve worn that! That’s the jacket-”

Words stumped in his throat. It was the leather jacket he saw her in at Neon Affluenza, the one he sat on and then later took off her body in a frenzy. Yeah, he shouldn’t finish that sentence. 

Julie shook her head, amused. “Let’s  _ not.” _ _  
_   
“Yup.”

Taking out Michael’s cassette, she put the the vinyl on the record player. For a few beats, there was no sound, only for the band to launch into an aggressive guitar solo that felt like a punch to the ear. Julie grinned, wide and prideful, and upped the volume. The wrath of Dave left her unbothered - then again, he had a feeling that asshole wouldn’t mind. 

It was raging female punk-rock, similar to Bikini Kill, with blunt lyrics and spitting instrumentals. The beat was insane, drilling harder than some of Alex’ solos. It was vulgar and cool and honest. As he tried imagining what it must’ve looked like, Rose barefoot on a stage yelling about the patriarchy, Julie pulled him into an hysterical dance. They jumped around like maniacs, head banging and shoulders shaking violently. 

Though he’d never admit it, he  _ had  _ been in his feels, and she successfully - unintentionally - pulled him out of it. 

“Burn,” she yelled along. “You gotta burn, burn, burn!” 

They blazed through a good chunk of the album, singing and kicking and drowning out all the other thoughts. This was safe. Luke and Julie could lament about music for hours and nothing would change. 

It was cool how she let him in on this part of her life as well. Though he proposed listening to Petal Pushers, she allowed it. Hearing Rose sing, seeing Julie mouth along, it was as if two different voices suddenly blended together and made sense. In harmony. 

Sweaty and panting, she paused on the fifth track and dazzled him with a beam. “I needed that,” she said. “I didn’t know I did, but I did. I don’t really listen to her music a lot - guess it’s still a ‘remnant’ of when I couldn’t, so...”

Luke puffed, wiping the sheen from his forehead and then pushed his thumb in her forehead. “Gotta get that out of your head, cause it’s good.”

She pushed his finger away, rubbing the spot with a playful scowl. “Asshole. You can’t say anything - you listen to  _ Michael Jackson _ when you’re alone.”

“Hey!” His arms raised in defense. “Pushers for you, Jackson for me!” 

His tone got her intrigued, he noted, her head tilting with interest. “Why him?”

He recounted the MTV story to her, her smile growing with each nostalgic beat. “That’s really cool,” she said when he finished. “What’s your favourite?”

“‘Smooth Criminal’,” he confessed. “Kinda felt like a rockstar mimicking him.”

To his surprise, Julie began doing the moon walk, the soles of her sneakers squeaking against the cement floor. He laughed and sang the first line to the flow of her motion. 

And then she sang it right back. 

His brows raised, delighted. “You- you know the lyrics?”

“It’s ‘Smooth Criminal’,” she deadpanned. “I think everyone knows the lyrics.”

Luke ran for his phone without thinking about it, the device dumped and forgotten on the couch. Typing the song into Youtube, he found an instrumental version. With a smirk, all too similar to the ones he’s shot her in the past, he quipped: “Prove it.”

Matching his gaze with equal challenge, she placed her hands on her hips and told him to put it on. Luke plugged it into the aux and raised the volume. 

An electrifying cello riff erupted from the speakers. A surprising laugh followed from Julie, quickly steeling her face when he caught it. It was playful, it was stupid, it was another thign that made sense between him and Julie. A fucking sing-off.  _ Let’s go.  _

He bit the bullet, modifying his voice to get that MJ rasp and charm and spit out the first verse. Julie stalked forward and sang the second verse back to him, oozing the allure he’s been dreaming of since her performance at Dragon’s Den.

It went so fast, so fiery that he found himself circling her without realising, the danger of the song pumping in his veins. Like push and pull, she stepped in his path and made a finger gun against his chest. 

They took the chorus simultaneously, harmonising without problem. The girl got in his face, eyes glimmering with a competitive fire. It was as if both embodied the sharp edge of a knife, ready to kill Annie in the bedroom. 

The instrumentals fell into a small interlude, the crescendo bound to crash onto them like a tsunami. Luke was breathing heavily, that same palpable tension of  _ need  _ rippling his skin like all their sensual escapades in O’Reilly’s - only now, neither were drunk. 

He stuck his tongue out. “Take it home, Jules!”

Julie belted out the bridge, Luke taking the second half all too gladly while basking in her sopranic power.

_ Dang gone it! (You were struck down) _ _  
_ _ (It was your doom - Annie!) _

Craving that upper-hand again, he growled his final blow in her face. 

_ You've been hit by _

Then they ended, that growl pucking in a grin to match hers. 

_ You've been struck by _ _  
_ _ A Smooth Criminal _

Their chests were racing for air, breaths mingling in the little space. The tension was suffocating, choking out all sensical reasoning and leaving him with the simple action to kiss her. Kiss her. Kiss her. She was right there, achingly beautiful, and if he wasn’t so afraid of losing her, he’s snatch her by the waist and kiss the fire from her lips.

Two wrecking seconds passed, her eyes roving his face and him keeping his hands in tight fists at his sides.  _ Don’t fuck up. _

Julie visibly gulped, averting her gaze and taking a step back. Luke properly breathed again, one fist uncurling to comb though his messy hair.

Whatever she’d been waiting for, seemed to have passed, that natural smile of hers present. “Did I prove it?” 

He chuckled, incredulous. “Yeah. Yeah, you did. Remind me to not do that again.”

“I’ll do that tomorrow on our run.” Shooting him a pointed look, she added: “Unless  _ you  _ keep asking to see me. You’re gonna text me again in two hours?”

“You keep coming,” he retorted. 

She tsked. “You’re just lucky I got off work when you texted.” 

_ “Sure.” _

“Speaking of-” Her thumb jabbed at the sliding doors. “-Flynn’s probably waiting on me.”

His casual nod hid the disappointment. Did he miss another chance again? Past the flickering lights of the highway, seeing signs and ignoring them? He couldn’t think like that. Julie wasn’t ‘sending signals’ - she was his friend. She was being wholly, fully herself and trusted him to accept her for it. He shouldn’t think like that. 

And yet. As he watched her go, hair dancing with each step, he felt a sense of loss. Like he’d keep driving, restless, and would never stop. 

He thought about their moment again the next day. It was five am, earlier to avoid the LA heat, and waiting for Julie to tie the shoelaces that had come undone. For someone that used to despise mornings, she’d been more chipper than him. Probably because she wasn’t weighed down by feelings laced in guilt. 

Deciding to change gears, a smile pulled on his lips and broke the news. 

“Willie’s getting us on the radio.”

Julie shot up, wonderstruck, and let out a yell. “Really?!”

Luke laughed, letting her excitement bleed into his skin. Bouncing on his heels, he rambled a spiel of words. “Yeah! I mean, he send some guy from Rock & Bounce FM our new album and he’s now debating whether to play something, but our chances are pretty high cause Willie is, y’know, fucking amazing-”

“He is!”

“-so yeah, uh, that’s what’s going on.” Chuckling, he shot her a smirk. “You miss shit when I can’t text you 24/7.”

She rolled her eyes. “Funny.” But then, a warm smile solely for him. “That’s great, Luke. I’d hug you if you weren’t so sweaty.”

The smirk widened, dangerous, as the idea sparked in his brain. Julie caught on, holding her hands out with a warning. “No. No, Luke,  _ don’t.” _

“Aw,” he pouted. Another step forward, spidery fingers out to grab her. “Now you’re hurting my feelings, Julie.”

Giggling, she jumped aside as he launched for her. “Luke! Come on!”

“I want my hug!”

After a few tries, consequently waking up an entire street with their adrenaline-filled yelling, he scooped her up into a big bear hug. Her body jostled from the impact, laughing in his ear and knees brushing his waist. Spinning around the hushed neighbourhood, the world seemed alright again. 

A whine puffed out. “You  _ reek.”  _

He set her down with a chuckle, brows raised. “And you think you smell good?”

“No,” she said, though not relenting as she jabbed her finger in his chest. “But I wasn’t the one going for a hug.”

He captured the finger, pulling her closer once more and realising with quiet delight how willing she seemed. Curling around the fabric, she reached up to ruffle his hair and left no space between. 

His choking laugh was anything but casual. “That’s necessary?”

“It’s retaliation,” she fired back, falling back on her heels. Their jog recommenced. “Anyway, I was right: sometimes it takes longer to get noticed. The radio is going to play one of your songs and-” she huffed, one hand gripping her side. “-and you’ll get people calling in no time.”

A half-hearted laugh followed, gaze ripped from her to the street. She was right. There  _ was  _ a chance people would call. It felt unfair though. Julie was on the album too. Didn’t she deserve to get calls as well? Be on the radio? Hell, Julie deserved to play sold out arenas! The main stage at Coachella! The soloist was just as worthy as the band, if not  _ more  _ for doing it all on her own. 

Righteous anger coiled in his stomach. The world was upside down if Julie Molina wasn’t playing from every radio station. ‘Arcana’ was a killer EP. He still didn’t understand why no one called - or maybe someone did, but it hadn’t been a good match. Regardless, what the hell was wrong with everyone? Why was she not being broadcasted? 

His one track mind saw an easy solution. Get her on the radio. No matter what. Get her on the radio. 

Her hand waved in front of his face, snapping him out of his reverie. She frowned. “Everything okay?”

Luke grinned, secret exhilaration pumping in his veins, and spread his arms all cheeky. “I’m waking up with the city, Julie!”

A melodious sound followed. “Good morning, Los Angeles,” she sang.

He repeated it. “Good morning, Los Angeles!”

For the next minutes, they kept singing the sentence over and over again with each street they traversed. The homeowners must think they were insane. Whatever Luke felt though, something akin pure fucking adoration, wasn’t even close to being describable. 

The simplest way to explain it was that Julie made him happy. That was it. He supposed it wasn’t anyone’s business anyway. 

He raced her up the stairs to her apartment and he taught her how to make protein shakes and the sound of the blender awoke Carrie and Flynn - grumpy, cause it was barely seven am and two jumpy adults were bickering about ingredients - and then they sat on her balcony, sunlight licking at their clammy skin, as they drank their smoothies. Posy mewled at her feet, begging for attention. With one hand, he set Posy in his lap. 

“You’ll regret that,” she quipped. “She’s a cuddler.”

“Good,” he retorted, petting the cat. She purred contently in reply. “I fucking love cuddling.”

She smiled. “You do.”

It wasn’t a question. He hid his own smile, hopeful, behind the rim of his cup. It tasted sweeter than usual. There were big words brewing on his tongue, ones he wasn’t even sure of what they meant or why they were waiting. Sitting beside her just felt significant, somehow. He wanted to say how happy he was, how incredible she was, how annoyingly infatuated he was with everything she did. He wanted to say to Reggie that ‘pining’ wasn’t bad. Not now, at least. A comfortable pearl of warmth settled right in his heart, a manifestation of all his eager grins and smooth lines. 

There wasn’t much to worry or be angry about when he was around her. 

And then he said it anyway. “This is nice.”

She looked down at her drink. “I would’ve added more sugar, but sure.”

That eager grin of his grew, shaking his head and trailing back to the cityscape. He told her; no need to explain himself and stumble his way through. 

Julie Molina was like violin snares and trumpets and heavy drums and the fingerpicking of a guitar. She was the most beautiful song. Maybe that was the way he should describe that feeling in his chest. It wasn’t adoration or sweetness or pining - it was music. She was music. 

The melody followed him home, into the folds of his clothing and right beneath the shower head and the palate of his mouth. It crept in his touch when he played guitar or when he tapped on Willie’s number and made an important call. Like a circle, looping and intensifying, whenever they were together.

Like now. Luke jumped into Julie’s (read: Flynn’s) car with two steaming cups of coffee from Starbucks. It seemed sacrilegious, but Julie swore it wasn’t that deep. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, other things blasted his words away. 

An upbeat pop song was booming from the speakers, AC cranked up to eleven, Julie loudly singing along as her hand was splayed on the dashboard; the other meticulously painting her nails a light blue colour. It was more chaotic than her after a few margaritas.

Stunned, he waited for her to acknowledge him. It only took a second, a dazzling smile directed towards him as she wiggled her wet fingers. 

“I’m saving money!”

“You look insane!” he yelled above the music, kindly. 

Lowering the volume, she softly blew on her hand as she said: “Do you want your nails painted too?”

He stuck his left out without a second thought. “Do this one.”

It fell in her lap, her cross-legged in the driver’s seat and bend over to get a good coat on. For a moment, it was just the pop song and the smell of coffee and chemicals. Today, they were going to play a track from ‘Purple Utopia’ at Rock & Bounce FM - more specifically, this very hour. He could’ve just put on the stereo at home, but there was something special about hearing it in a car. Luke wanted to envision how others would discover them; sudden, like one being pleasantly surprised by a present they weren’t expecting. 

None of them had a car, except Flynn. So there he was, wanting to spend this moment with Julie instead of his boys. 

His stomach whooped when her grip tightened, twisting his wrist for a better angle. 

“What song are you hoping for?” she asked, soft. The air conditioner let the curls dance and flutter around her heart-shaped face, lower lip caught by her teeth. 

He pondered for a beat. “‘Trip Switch’, ‘Old Me’ or, y’know, ‘Honey Whiskey’.”

She grinned, gazing up. “I’d be stealing the shine.” Finishing his hand, she flexed it. The blue on his unmanicured nails looked a little goofy, but there was something cool about matching with Julie. Was he an idiot for wondering what strangers would think if they went out the car after this? 

Fiddling with the radio, he found the Rock & Bounce station. For a while, simple small talk flowed as songs passed by. Nerves coiled in his stomach, wondering if he got the wrong date or if the radio host changed his mind, until-   


_"Next up, rock band Sunset Curve that's been steadily climbing in the LA scene with their hit: 'Trip Switch!'"_

Julie and him began hollering as the song blared through the speakers. Pride, disbelief, moved, relief - all mixed into one as he yelled the lyrics, drumming his hands against the dashboard. Sunset Curve! On the fucking radio! Tears prodded behind his eyes, unwilling to ruin this glorious moment with tears, though overwhelmed by the possibility that _this was it._ At this very moment, his future might change. He could barely wrap his head around it. 

Julie was dancing in her seat, mimicking a microphone and holding it out for him. He laughed and played along. This was so insane, this was so fucking insane. He was on the radio! Hundreds, if not thousands, of people were hearing him right now! 'Trip Switch' died out sooner than he expected, Luke keyed up on adrenaline and the urge to scream out the window that _he was on the fucking radio!_ And he would've, had there not been another surprise waiting. 

_ "Shifting gears with a female soloist in the same atmosphere: Julie Molina, with her song 'Light Up The Dark' from her most recent EP. Let's go!" _

A wide smile grew on his cheeks, the girl next to him frozen in place. Her jaw was slack, mouth shaping words that didn't come out, confusion riddling her features. _No,_ he wanted to say, _you didn't mishear him._

“I _may_ have slipped in your name,” he teased instead. 

She gasped, gaze ripping from the radio to him. “You didn’t!”

Her song began playing, that distinctive voice of hers crooning and capturing every listener's ear no doubt. A speechless Julie stared at him, his smile softening while carefully grabbing her hand. "Enjoy this, Jules."

A laugh sputtered from her lips. Her lyricism drilled in their ears, Luke now able to imagine how baffled he must've looked a few minutes ago. She squeezed his hand, bringing his attention back to her and, without a second to waste, pulled him into a tight hug. 

"Thank you," she whispered, thick with emotion. 

He relished the embrace, letting it linger a second longer than usual, before pulling back. His smile was shaky, a quiet truth - too honest - following: "Anything for you, Julie."

What he expected to happen, didn't. Luke thought she'd smile and let go, fall back in her seat and focus on the song again. Maybe crack a joke, ease that energy between them. But she didn't. Julie stayed. Her mouth parted at his words, thumbs stroking the back of his neck and keeping him there, also frozen in place.  His eyes flickered to her lips, luring him closer. Heart pounding in his throat, the idea of kissing Julie  _ not  _ inebriated drove him to a nervous peak. Julie’s gaze lifted to meet his, the brown bright and blown wide, his own no doubt glittering with adoration. 

And then Julie kissed him. A shot of oxygen burst through him at the first contact, instantly cupping her cheeks. Her sweet lips slanted against his, fingers pressing deeper into his neck and nearly careening to the other side. Passion poured from every kiss and stroke of the tongue, their breathing heavy and irregular. Everything was going fast and too slow at the same time. 

She giggled as he helped her over the console, the sound setting his skin aflame and sparking the brightest beam. As she settled in his lap, her soft hands caressed the planes of his cheeks in wonder. He pulled her in again, hungry for the taste he’s been yearning for months. 

His teeth bit down on her lip, dragging across the sensitive skin and eliciting a whine. Holding her tighter, he whispered: “What is this?

Her body pressed fully against his, arms bracketing his head as her fingers were curled in his hair. Her heady eyes focused on his lips, the sight making him want her even more. 

She shook her head, voice breathy. “I want you.”

It would be so easy to give in. To accept this answer and kiss her senselessly and drive to the nearest apartment and fuck her until his muscles ached. Sex wasn’t enough anymore though. He wanted all of her. 

“Julie, I- I-” he stuttered, tilting her chin so she’d look at him. A pause. A steadying exhale. “I want… I don’t  _ just  _ wanna have sex with you anymore. I want everything.”

A brilliant smile bloomed on her lips at his words, nodding so faintly he almost didn’t see it. A soft, languid kiss followed. Grins puckered, the kisses becoming smaller and having the other chase for another feel. Julie felt so perfect, snug between his arms, it almost seemed like a dream. 

Words were uttered amongst the kisses. “I want everything too,” she whispered. Their foreheads pressed together as they took a deep breath. “You-” A chuckle, another kiss, every passing second invigorating his soul. “You make me  _ so  _ happy.”

He laughed, heart racing a mile a minute from finally reaching synchronicity after months of push and pull. How his heart grew in size to make room for her, that she’d be able to fit comfortably and decide the rate at which it went. A smirk crawled on his lips as he noted her expression, that quiet way of swooning he has caught himself doing many times. 

A cocky nod came after, brushing his nose against hers. “Let me double that,” he mumbled. “Cause you make me happier.”

Julie grinned, that hint of enamour he hadn’t noticed before. “That’s cheesy.”

“It’s true,” he smiled. And then he blurted: “Watch out, Julie, I might start falling in love with you.”

Panic struck his chest, body paralysed and cursing himself for jumping the gun. His mind had been so hazy, so deliriously happy, that it expressed feelings he hasn’t come to terms with - ones he wasn’t even sure were ready to be spoken. It was a half-truth. 

Luke didn’t ‘might’ fall in love with her. He was. He was falling at lightning speed at this very moment. 

Her wide eyes, surprised by his sudden admission, held curiosity. After a beat, she shrugged, sheepish. “Okay.”

He let out a shaky breath. “Okay?”

“That’s okay,” a blush tinged her cheekbones, “if you start doing that.”

Julie Molina allowed him to love her. To fall for her, one hundred percent. If he had the guts and wasn’t coming off a flare of panic, he’d tell her he was torpedoing down the rabbit hole. It was incredibly easy, Luke realised, watching her smile at him. The movies and the stories and the articles always explained ‘love’ as this grandiose thing. When really, it was looking into someone’s eyes and telling them it was okay.

No angels singing, no pompous orchestra. Just this. 

New kisses simmered with resolved questions, Luke unafraid to kiss and touch her in the ways he has wanted. She seemed different too, drawing shapes on his neck and shoulder blades as if she were marking him. When the radio station went into an old The Sugarhill Gang song and snapped the lustful tension in two, Julie laughing against his mouth, Luke was certain. 

Yeah. He might fully love her already. 

His grasp found solace on her thighs as he hoisted her up the second they entered her apartment. Flynn was out, Posy was nowhere to be seen. 

“Man, I missed this,” he muttered, squeezing the fabric. “Your body.”

She hummed. “Same.”

When she motioned at her bedroom and he squeezed again, he grinned: “Thank God, you’re not wearing leather.”

Julie giggled. “You’re an idiot.”

It was slower than the other three times. They took their time. Every kiss, every trace of the tongue, every roll of the hip was drawn out. The drunk teasing at bars came to fruition, fingers digging and scratching into bare skin as they found rhythm. Moans weren’t muffled, but enjoyed. Feeling Julie beneath him, arched and wanting - wanting him,  _ everything _ \- brought him to a pinnacle of ecstasy. 

It wasn’t sloppy. They sunk into the mattress as hands intentionally wandered for pleasure. She rolled them over, her on top and her hair like a halo. Her skin was flushed and her lips plump from kissing and she was so fucking gorgeous - always and every hour of the day. 

Her nails went up his torso, tracing the grooves and leaving him shivering. Luke pulled her down to capture her lips, kissing down her chest. He bit on a spot that left her particularly restless and she whined. 

“Cause I couldn’t get your nose,” he heaved. 

Her hands wrapped around his neck, tilting his face up and catching sight of her glimmering eyes. He didn’t know what to do for a second, mesmerised. Slowly, she brushed her nose against his and kissed the tip, teeth grazing the skin. 

She smiled. “There.”

Hours passed. Of him exploring her and her exploring him and neither caring of their other responsibilities for the day. Julie off-handedly said something about needing to pick up a dress for a gig, but he had been too busy working his way up her thigh. When she was on her knees, all thoughts about the planned band meeting eradicated. 

Their midday nap had him waking up in the early evening, softened light filtering from her blinds. The shutters casted glimpses of her bare body, white sheets covering strips of skin. A smile naturally pulled on his lips, crawling closer until he found her back and placed kisses up her spine. His hand circled around her waist, tracing the hickey he left on her hipbone. The absolute quietude, safe for the hum rumbling in his chest and her content sighs, felt like heaven on earth. Time could stop and he’d fill the frozen seconds with bliss. 

Julie let him shift even closer, a lazy smile peeking from beneath the curls. Her toes trailed up his calf, teasing, and then sighed when he reached the back of her neck. Twisting his torso, he gently brushed her hair away to continue his path. Temple, cheek, jaw; lips finding more skin to press against. Had he not been bleary from sleep, he’d go into overdrive from hearing sweet nothings puff from her lips.

Finally moving, she rolled on her side and wrapped herself in his embrace. Dazed giddiness made him smile in such a dopey way, her eyes opening at that exact moment and catching his look. Her face broke into a bright, reverent gaze, equalling his own. He was in love. 

But then she peered, playful. “Can this replace the morning runs?”

Luke laughed, slipping up her side to cradle her cheek. “I thought you liked them.”

“I like _ you.” _

That made him pause for a beat. He was a fucking idiot. Now that they were being truthful, he decided to ask something that had him mulling for months. 

“When you said you didn’t have time for guys like me-”

“I never meant it in a bad way - clearly.” Leaning into his touch, she added: “You’d make me lose focus.”

He reached up to peck her and murmured: “We lost focus.” And then- “I don’t hate losing focus.”

Julie hummed. “You can stay this time,” she whispered, “I won’t kick you out.”

Recalling their first moment in her bed, he grinned. “No boyfriend coming?”

“Is he already here?”

“Yeah.” It tumbled out without a second of hesitation. “I am.”

Just as they found themselves moving like they did hours before, Julie pulled back and got out of bed. He stared at her, perplexed. Julie giggled as she pulled a sundress from her dresser and threw it over her body. This girl was actively trying to kill him. 

“I’m hungry,” she explained and grabbed his boxers from the floor, throwing it in his face. “And Flynn’s about to come home too.”

He snatched it from the air with one hand. “You don’t have a system?”

Her brow quirked. “Is this college? No.”

Jumping out of bed and into his boxers, he followed her out to the living room. Unlike last time, his garments weren’t thrown around the place in a frenzy. His arms draped around her waist as she looked for something in the fridge, propping his chin on her shoulder and kissing her jaw. She snuggled in his chest, her own grin growing. 

“Eggs?” Another kiss. A giggle. “Leftover pasta?”

The door opened right as his grip tightened, the pair’s gaze flitting to an unfazed Flynn in the threshold. The contrast was almost comical, the woman in a neon pink suit and hair in a neat braid, as opposed to the half-naked lovesick adults. The shit-eating smirk on Luke’s face did nothing to lift the exasperated roll of the eye. 

Flynn sighed. “Finally.”

“Hell yeah,” Luke boasted. “Finally got her.” 

Her keys swung in her grasp, amused. “Do I need to go to Carrie’s or…?”

Before Julie could speak, he shook his head: “Nah, it’s cool. I have to go anyway.”

“Why?” she asked as she turned in his hold, frowning. 

He smiled. Having Julie pout at him kind of felt like a fantasy. “Band meeting. Was already supposed to happen, like, hours ago.”

She grinned, coy, and slung her arms around his shoulders. It was like all those drunken nights at O’Reilly’s, only now he could look at her and not be afraid she’d see something behind the green. How had he not peered further than the brown of her irises? In the golden hour of the day, fondness has never been clearer. 

In a way, it was as if he’d pushed the compass aside. That inner compass, him being the one to guide the boys to stardom, vanished at the sight of her smile. Luke had to be nothing  _ but  _ himself, which was perhaps the most extraordinary thing of all. 

Like throw her in the ocean and jump after her or hold her hand in her makeshift recording studio. It was freeing. It made him wonder if all those months ago, had they continued seeing each other, if he would still try and carve a new path with her - uncharted and exciting. Luke decided to not linger on it. This was perfect. 

“I thought you didn’t mind losing focus?” she joked. 

His nose scrunched up. “Nah, I lied.” When she swatted his arm, he corrected himself with a crooked smile. “I do have to go. This radio thing is pretty big and we need to think of our next move.”

Her eyes trailed past her to her phone on the coffee table, pensive. “That’s true. You kind of took me off guard back there, but…” Shrugging, a hopeful lift of the brow bloomed on her face. “Who knows.”

Luke squeezed her waist in excitement. “Who fucking knows.”

Flynn sighed again, rather loud. “So?!” 

Their hands fell limp to their sides, Luke smacking a kiss on her cheek and exclaiming he was off, quickly running back to Julie’s bedroom to dress himself. She followed him to the front door, that dress of hers nearly tempting him back inside, but grabbing her back in a kiss as a placeholder for the future. 

“So,” he whispered, “can I get your number now or do I still have to dm you like a fuckboy?”

Her lips tutted. “I’ll think about it.”

_ “Julie.” _

She pushed him off with a smirk, his feet stumbling to find balance. Leaning against the doorframe, she made a show of tapping her finger against her chin. “Maybe, maybe not.” But then she smiled, genuine, and nodded.

  
“I’ll dm you my number. You earned it, _loverboy.”_

_***_

__

**Author's Note:**

> diegetic songs used:  
> \- juice // lizzo  
> \- now or never // sunset curve  
> \- easier // 5 seconds of summer  
> \- light up the dark // gabrielle aplin  
> \- right here, right now // high school musical 3  
> \- concorde // gregory porter <3  
> \- but beautiful // g.p.  
> \- honey whiskey // nothing but thieves  
> \- sweet nothing // gabrielle aplin  
> \- gimme what i want // miley cyrus  
> \- bloodline // ariana grande  
> \- smooth criminal // michael jackson (glee version)  
> \- trip switch // nothing but thieves
> 
> thanks for reading this mammoth!! also dave supremacy.


End file.
